SOS: All Madmen are Not the Same
by OnWithTheButter
Summary: · · · — — — · · · She was a sheltered and snobby rich girl. He was a poor fisherman haunted by a dark past. Each personified what the other thought they despised most. · · · — — — · · · Every soul is worth saving. · · · — — — · · · Norway/fem!Austria, human!AU, When They Cry music lyrics
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Random pairing is random (though I'll warn you now, this is actually somewhere between romance and friendship, but it's annoying to explain, and I expect most people to interpret it as romance, so yeah). I'm using a mix of Nyotalia with the regular characters.  
**

**fem!Austria - Anneliese Edelstein  
fem!Sweden - "Kristen" Östberg (I changed the last name for a more common one, because Oxenstierna is such a specific family… deal with it)  
fem!Finland - Aino Väinämöinen  
fem!Prussia - Julia Beilschmidt  
Norway - Sigurd Thorvaldson  
Denmark - Mathias Andersen  
Iceland - Egil Ingólfsson  
Seychelles - Michelle Mancham  
fem!England - Rose Kirkland  
fem!Russia - Anna Braginskaya  
**

**Side pairings in the story - PruHun, Denmark/fem!Finland, IceSey.**

* * *

She could dance that dance in her sleep, she thought. Oh, how the slow motions captivated the eyes of humans, but to some, young women named Anneliese Edelstein in particular, the waltz lost its appeal when one is performing it. Almost every weekend in her past, at almost every ball she attended, she heard the same words: "May I have this dance?" Perhaps she was cursed with ability and grace to dance, perhaps by beauty to attracting partners. She wouldn't blame her high class for it, because she loved her status. She had attended private schools, escorted everywhere she went, always kept away from the filth of society. She despised those types, the ones who didn't fit into her rich lifestyle.

Now twenty-two years of age and in her senior year of college, she was well ready to assume a life of relaxation and the high life. Really, her education was just for image's sake. She couldn't have cared less about business, her major, also for image's sake. As the heiress of her father's large and politically involved company, she had to know at least something, for appearances. Unlike most of her fellow students, she wasn't 'wasting' her life on frivolous 'experiences'.

Her father insisted she at least seem like a normal girl, as long as she didn't get bad publicity for the family, and so she was forced to leave the bubble of her home and live in the dormitories. With roommates. That she could not stand. It was a shame though, because if she hadn't have been so prejudiced, she could have made friends out of them. But heaven forbid she befriend such middle-class swine. Some brilliant person had decided it would be a good idea for her to share a room with two immigrant girls who had known each other since forever. One was a cheery, happy-go-lucky, little ugly duckling by the ridiculous name of Aino, the other a tall, skinny, shy girl known as Kristen. It wasn't her real name, but Anneliese had never bothered to remember the real one.

One thing Anneliese cherished was her beloved art collection. At one point in her life, her true passion was to become a painter, until she grew older and realized her class. Painters were stereotyped as poor and eccentric, two thing looked down upon from sophistication. But the art created was often considered a symbol of one's wealth, and so she had directed her love into collecting originals. She loved all types and styles of paintings, as long as it didn't portray that horrid dance.

She sat alone with her laptop on a certain evening in the middle of the week, browsing online galleries of Monet, ignoring the other two girls as they babbled back and forth in whatever language they spoke mutually, and seemed to be primping for some or another event.

Just then, a brunette popped open the door without a knock and began to talk, which startled Anneliese. "Oy! You girls ready to get down?" She wore a mischievous grin and reached out to poke Aino, who happened to be near the door.

"Just a few, Liz!" the short blonde laughed in response. "Kris lost her sweater." She referred to the tall girl frantically digging through her drawers, on her knees in a floor-length, sleeveless dress and just one shoe.

The friend, Elizabeth, giggled at the sight of the frustrated girl who's glasses kept slipping down her thin nose as well. "Why does she need the sweater anyway? Weather's not even cool yet."

Aino shielded her mouth and whispered an answer. "She said something about the dress being embarrassing."

"Pfft… She's got nothing to hide. Hey, even I'm jealous of her bod." She then called out to the girl they were talking about. "Hey, Kristen! Forget the sweater, honey, you look great. I'll lend you a bolero instead."

Kristen looked up, her face blank. "Uh… M'kay…tack." She then got up and retrieved the second shoe, scurrying to put it on.

And then Elizabeth noticed the pair of almost-violet eyes peering out from behind the footboard of the farthest bed. "Hey you! Why don't you come party with us too?"

"I have a name, you know," Anneliese dignifiedly responded, scoffing. "And no. Not on your life."

"Why not…? It'll be fun…" The girl sounded much like a whiny toddler, pouting to go with it.

"Especially not if you're going to act like a spoiled child."

"You're the spoiled brat, Edelstein! Live a little, geez."

"I am not going to dignify your uncivilized self with a response after this."

"Well then, you can't say that you declined the invitation~" Elizabeth sang, hurrying across the room and took a hold of Anneliese's hand, easily pulling her to her feet. "See, you're already dressed and made up for it."

"For the love of everything holy, Ms. Elizabeth Hédarváry!" She struggled, but couldn't loose herself from the girl's death grip.

Ignoring her captive's protest, she turned her attention to her friend. "Aino! Shoes for this lady, stat! We're staging an emergency medical intervention before she dies of snob!"

Aino did as commanded, trying to keep from laughing as her standoffish roommate silently glowered at everything.

Once Elizabeth was satisfied, she proceeded to escort Anneliese throughout the building to her party, lecturing her the whole way. "Okay, Rule #1, you cannot leave until I agree that you may. Rule #2, you should try to mingle. Talk to people, anyone, I don't really care who. Though I'd prefer you talk to boys, so I have something to gossip about. Rule #3, no complaining about coming. I _am_ the host of the shindig, so I _will_ find out if you whine. Rule #4, have fun. Because if you don't, I'll pour punch in your hair. Remember, I'm forcing you for your own sake. You can eat or drink whatever you like. And for Pete's sake, don't talk to me while we're there, not that you'd want to anyway. All clear? If any of these rules are broken, I'll come up with some bad gossip to give your mother about you. You don't want your parents thinking you're a bad girl, do ya~?"

Anneliese knew all too well that she was serious about the threat. Her parents and Elizabeth's parents had been friends since the girls were small children, but a complicated rivalry formed instead of friendship for the younger generation. If Elizabeth couldn't find any bad things to say about her, she would have no problems lying. The two young women were quite opposite in a way; Anneliese would do anything to preserve her image and place in high class, Elizabeth would so anything because of her place in society, as if she were above the rules.

Once at the party, Anneliese found a place to sit and observe, returning a few greetings from those that knew her and answering the questions of her identity for those who didn't. She tried her best not to look like she wasn't enjoying herself, not wanting to find out what Elizabeth could pull up on her. People watching became a favorite activity of the evening, with a fair share of condescending of 90+% of the attenders. She saw a young woman with long, braided hair that she had been in several classes with and had been a decent partner in group assignments, looking as if she had been drug here as well, probably by the blond man who kept coming back to talk to her. Strangely enough, she recognized a Chinese teacher from the last year over in another part of the room, walking on his hands and generally getting into the chaos that she could just see breaking out at any moment. There was a younger boy with superman cape reciting comic book lines or something, how childish. A taller blonde girl with a ribbon tied around her head bumped into Anneliese as she ran by to greet someone coming in.

She looked to see who exactly it was entering. Two young men, perhaps three or four years apart in age, but otherwise looking strikingly similar. The younger one had lighter colored hair and eyes and was ever-so-slightly shorter. The older, she guessed was his brother, whispered something in his ear, which he frowned at, and pointed to the drinks table, at a tall guy with unruly, blond hair. The two proceeded to walk over and join him, returning greetings on the way. For some reason, Anneliese couldn't take her eyes off of them.

The tallest of the three must have noticed, because he watched her back with a grin, only taking his eyes away when her two roommates joined their group, but then found himself watching her again. Aino noticed his gaze and began some sort of conversation with him, which diverted his attention again. When she was sure none of them were watching her, Anneliese stood up to move across the room. She felt uncomfortable. Trying to appear like she wasn't watching, she kept her eyes steadfast on a target on the opposite wall as she crossed the crowd.

And then she felt a body slam into her. She looked up to see the older of the two young men who had come in, his face red in embarrassment and frozen in shock. When he found his voice, he stuttered, barely speaking above a whisper. "Uh… Unnsk- Sorry… Uh…"

* * *

**A/N: "Unnsk-" Cut off from "unnskyld" - I'm sorry (Norwegian)**


	2. Chapter 2

_"If you touch them, I will kill you."_

_· · · — — — · · ·_

"Egil, are you almost done?" A young man stood impatiently waiting for his little brother.

"Yes, gah, stop rushing me, Sigurd."

Sigurd, the older brother, was very thin, with bleached hair worn combed partly over his expressionless face, occasionally falling to cover a deep blue eye. He didn't mind it, it was almost like a shield to keep people from recognizing his face. He lived in an apartment shared with his younger brother and a cousin, who he'd regarded as a brother since childhood, not even a mile from the large university that both attended. Sigurd did not attend however, as he never finished school and lived instead as a fisherman, but he wasn't an uncommon sight on campus. He blended in well with the thousands of people his age, all with diverse stories, and so felt slightly more comfortable spending his free time there.

"You do realize you're already ten minutes late, right?"

"Shut up, Sigurd. You're late too."

"Um, no. I _was_ there on time until you weren't and I came to look for you."

"I'm an adult now, I don't need you to hold my hand."

"18 is barely what one'd call an adult."

Another thing about this young man called Sigurd who hated to stand out was his speech. He spoke quietly, but even without that, was difficult to understand. He had a noticeable lisp and tended to slur his words, over the top of a very strong accent. It wasn't that he was shy or bashful, but a compact of life circumstances made those adjectives easier for him and his family to describe him by. He wasn't really a loner, but shame and misunderstanding made him isolate himself. The only reason he followed the other two to parties and such was for food. The trio weren't poor, but Sigurd was the only one with an income of his own, while the other two were spending on their education. They came from a middle-class background, but as most college-aged young people are, they were more often than not broke.

Sigurd's phone vibrated in his pocket and he quickly scanned the message. "Egil, Mathias is now wondering where you are. That's how late you are. You know he usually doesn't notice or care what the time is."

"I don't care what he thinks."

"If you're not ready in sixty seconds, I'll call Michelle and–"

"Fine! Geez, you're annoying." Egil appeared in a short amount of seconds after that, still brushing his platinum hair. "You know, some people care about how they look."

"Yeah, and then other people are over-obsessive." Sigurd smirked as his brother's violet eyes sent daggers through him.

"That wasn't fair."

"I'm sorry, baby brother, but it was just too easy."

"I will kill you, Sigurd."

As soon as the statement reached his ears, Sigurd's face went blank as his eyes blank as his eyes dropped, standing rigidly still.

· · · — — — · · ·

_"I will kill you, Sigurd."_

_"Not if I kill you first."_

· · · — — — · · ·

"Uh, Sigurd?" Egil's voice snapped him back to reality. "I'm sorry, let's go."

The apology made a genuine smile come to Sigurd's face. It had taken years to develop any sort of decent relationship with his brother, and his greatest fear was that Egil would never forgive him for what he did. Until he got an explicit word of forgiveness from his brother, he would never forgive himself either, and would always be ashamed to be recognized for his actions. At the time, it had seemed like the right thing to do, but hindsight is always 20/20. For the rest of his life, he was sentenced to overwhelming guilt and regret.

In a short time, they arrived at the party, hosted by their cousin's, Mathias, girlfriend's friend. Mathias was with the alcohol, as to be expected. The two brothers quickly joined him, but he was oddly distracted. Several minutes later though, he spoke.

"Hey Sigurd. There's a pretty girl who's been watching you~"

"Great, just what I wanted." Sigurd rolled his eyes.

"Aw bro, I don't think she knows anything about you. I think she's just interested~ if you know what I mean."

"Well, I'm not."

"Don't be a spoilsport! C'mon, you're the only one in our little family without a special person. Do ya intend to be all alone forever?"

"Yes, I'm not worthy of anyone."

Mathias put on his most serious face and repeated what he'd told his dear friend over and over. "You're not a bad person. It wasn't your fault, and I think your motives were rather noble."

"I know what you think and we've agreed to disagree. Now stop bringing up the subject, it's wearing me out."

"I didn't bring it up, bro, I just said you need a girlfriend. Even awkward lil Egil has one…"

"This talk is over, Mathias. Unless you'd like me to break your jaw."

"Violent much?" The voice wasn't Mathias', but his girlfriend, Aino's, with a laugh.

Sigurd fell out of the conversation then, preoccupying himself with a drink. He was minding his own business until Mathias suddenly pushed him forward…and into a girl.

A thousand things flooded his mind as he reddened in embarrassment. "Uh… Unnsk- Sorry… Uh…" he finally stuttered out. The girl was glaring at him…and he could only wish to completely disappear.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Elizabeth closely watching her, so put on her most cordial act. Suddenly her face brightened and she spoke. "It's nothing. I'm Anneliese Edelstein." She extended her hand in greeting.

Cautiously taking and shaking her hand, he introduced himself as well. "…Sigurd."

"'Sigurd'…?" she questioned for the rest of his name. _Weird, uncultured commoners,_ ran through her mind.

"Uh… Sigurd Thorvaldson."

"Never heard of you." He breathed a very obvious sigh of relief.

She felt uncomfortable in the middle of the room, so found a vacancy near the wall and invited him follow if wanted to. He was at least seven inches taller than her, and she felt less intimidated speaking to him sitting. It also gave her a better view of what he looked like. His face was tired and slender, but he couldn't have been much older than her, if he was. On his exposed ear were the unmistakable scars of closed over piercings, and around his neck he wore two cords, one with a tooth of some sort, the other with a hammer. His appearance was of one she would have avoided at any other moment, but a strange feeling of sympathy waved over her that she couldn't explain.

"So…" he started, training his eyes on his bony hands that couldn't help but rub each other in nervousness, "I'd guess you're a student here, yeah?"

"Yes, are you?"

"No…my brothers are though. I just came because I had nothing better to do."

"Your brothers…one has whitish hair and the other has a very…unique hair style?"

"You have a keen eye."

"I have two cousins who are albino." She was attempting small talk, aware that her company was uncomfortable.

"Egil's not an albino, he just…has an albinism defect."

"What's the difference?"

"I…don't know, to be honest. I just remember my Mamma saying 'albinism defect'." He slumped over, resting his elbows on his knees. Anneliese could almost feel the sorrow falling over him. She wanted to ask if something had happened, but tactfully remained silent. "Mamma's dead," he admitted. She understood the words, but leant over to hear him better. "She killed herself when I was 13, or that's the official story."

"I'm sorry…"

"I believe she was killed…but this is a depressing subject, so I'll shut up. I'm sorry, I'm an awkward little recluse who doesn't know how to deal with people."

She smiled slightly, amused by the strange boy. "Forgive me if this is a bad question, but… Are you lonely, Mr. Sigurd?"

"Just call me Sigurd. And no, I don't feel lonely. I may not really have a lot of friends, but I'm content, I guess."

Anneliese was beginning to feel uncomfortable as well, perhaps he was rubbing off on her. Drawing on something from earlier in the conversation, she changed the subject. "So your brother's name is Egil…?"

"E. G. I. L. Yes," he spelled it out, "but pronounced like ale. Go on and make all the beer jokes if you want, we've already made them all. He's the little one. Mathias is the tall one and he's biologically my cousin. His parents adopted Egil though, and kinda took me in when I moved here too. Mathias has always been like my brother in one way or another."

"They didn't adopt you also?"

He shook his head. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"I'm sorry. Well, I can tell you're Scandinavian, but where are you from?"

"Trondheim, Norway. I moved here when I was 19 and I'm 23 now."

"I was born in Vienna. I've lived here so long that I sometimes forget that I wasn't born here. My great-grandfather fled Austria before World War II, his son built a financial empire here, and his son is my father. My mother is from Austria. I guess…I'm sort of the rich girl."

Sigurd rolled his eyes and tried not to make a face. "Then that makes me the poor, orphan kid who raised himself and did a bad job of it. We're complete opposites, you know." He stood up after making the statement, his face suddenly turned cold. "You're the spoiled princess who should be seen in public with scum like me. Good-bye, see you never, probably." He waved half-heartedly and seemed to hurry away from her.

He looked so upset. Did she say something? So he was just a poor boy… She had always believed the underprivileged of society deserved their class for whatever reason, but she was swamped with feelings of hurt for this stranger almost from the first word he spoke to her. Now the boy was gone, most likely to never be seen again. Never could she learn what happened to him… Wait, why did she even care? He was just one person in a world of several billion, most of them with a sob story of a life. But she _did_ care, for some unknown reason.

Sigurd walked away with his head down, fighting tears as his mind was flooded with a mixture of hatred, anger and sorrow. And then came the memories.

_· · · — — — · · ·  
_

_"I thought you loved me! I fell in love with you, but all you wanted was money! But still, I did everything for you, I gave you everything!"_

_"You would understand what a mother would do for her child."_

_"I hate your son! I used to be a respected man. Now I'm just the man with no judgment who married gold-digging, wretched pauper. I can't stand to be seen in public with scum like you."_

· · · — — — · · ·_  
_

_"Those boys are evil! Sigurd is an intolerable, rogue little miscreant and Egil looks like the spawn of the devil!"_

_"How dare you! Egil has an albinism defect!"_

· · · — — — · · ·

"She turned you down, buddy?"

Mathias' voice startled him, snapping him from a growing despondency. "No… I left." He crossed his arms, trying to regain his composure, before muttering, "Self-righteous, judgmental, conceited, egocentric, upper-crust snots." And in his mind, he asked the question he'd asked nearly everyday for nearly ten years: _"I avenged your death, Mamma, but was it really worth it?"_

* * *

**A/N: This really wasn't supposed to be that long…but I just didn't know where to stop, so yeah.**

**I hope you enjoyed! And yes, I would like people to guess Sigurd's crime. Though it might not be a stretch to guess, but I don't think the extent of it is obvious.  
**

**~Butter~  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: First off, let me say how annoyed I was half of this chapter trying to write text speak. But I thought it fit the characters, so whatever. And not just because of all the red lines. It literally bugs me to write like that.**

**Also, I'm not sure if I made it clear that Elizabeth is Hungary. I can use that name for her if I want (actually, because a Hungarian girl told me that they will almost always go by a local name if they move from Hungary, so as this takes place in America, she uses the English variant of Erzsébet).**

* * *

"_omg edelstein tht boy u were talkn 2 was cute ;)_"

Anneliese was woken up by this message from Elizabeth at a little past 5 a.m.

"_Shouldn't you be asleep? You set that up, didn't you?_" she quickly tapped back, more than a little irritated at being awoken.

"_haha got class 7 & no y wuld i try to set u up w sum1 i dont know_"

Anneliese decided to ignore the message and try to go back to sleep. A few minutes later, she was disturbed again.

"_so who is he?_"

"_Sigurd something Norwegian-son. I think Aino and Kristin know him. Just so you know, I don't care if you gossip about me and him._"

"_ooooooh u like him! hahaha :) _"

"_No, I feel sorry for him. There's a difference._"

"_U LIKE HIM! admit it. y do u feel sorry 4 him? :(_"

"_I don't know, to be honest. I just felt sorry for him the whole time. And I am not going to tell you everything he said to me, so forget it._"

"_SPILL SPILL!_"

"_Elizabeth, I think I upset him and I don't know why. Poor thing._"

"_wat? :'( wait didnt i c him cry?_"

"_He cried?_"

"_idk i think so. it lookd like it 2 me_"

"_Well, now I feel terrible._"

"_wat u say 2 him? :0_"

"_I don't know. He seemed like a very troubled person._"

"_still u like him _"

Anneliese refused to respond after that. She knew that once her dear Elizabeth got an idea in her mind, she wouldn't put it down. She would just have to ride out the storm until the strange young lady, if she could be called that, found something else to annoy her with.

It was less than an hour later that her phone lit up again, this time with a message from Gilbert, her cousin and Elizabeth's boyfriend.

"_hey annie, heard u have ur eyes on a boy :]_"

"_Yeah, yeah. I didn't know talking to a stranger for less than 20 minutes means I must be in love with him._"

"_whoa really?_"

"_That was sarcasm, idiot. I barely know the guy. Do you really have to believe every word Elizabeth says?_"

"_so do u like him?_"

"_No._"

"_y not?_"

"_HE IS A STRANGER. WHAT PART DON'T YOU GET?_"

"_whoa chill sis no need to get upset_"

"_You morons will be the end of me._"

· · · — — — · · ·

Also that morning, Elizabeth had texted Aino, after receiving the guess that she knew the mystery boy.

"_hey aino do u kno a norwegian guy called sigurd?_"

"_Sigurd Thorvaldson?_" she replied, complete with the first picture she found on her phone of the person in question.

"_ya! thats him!_"

"_why did u want to know?_"

"_haha i saw him w anneliese. she said she didnt remember his name & i thot u mite kno_"

"_oh ok_"

"_u c i dont want my friend 2 b lonely & i was gonna try set her up wi sum1 C:_"

"_I dont see Sigurd being thrilled...but I think both those 2 are lonely_"

"_so ur in? :D_"

"_sure why not :)_"

· · · — — — · · ·

It was about mid-afternoon and Anneliese was trying to catch a nap. Aino hadn't yet returned from her class or studying or whatever, Kristin and her boyfriend were quietly working on some project one of them had. It was finally peaceful, even though the nagging memories of the night before wouldn't seem to go. Between two classes – one two hours long, the other three – she had been constantly harassed by probably everyone who had heard Elizabeth's gossip. She was just beginning to doze off when a small knock was heard at the door.

"Ja?" Kristin called out as she rose to answer it. Anneliese heard clearly the creak of the door as it was opened slowly, followed by an eerily familiar falter and accent. "Uh… Kjerstin… Aino wanted her pencils…"

"M'kay…"

Anneliese quickly sat up as she didn't trust her ears. But believe it or not, there was Sigurd, the enigma that had plagued her mind for hours.

He froze in shock as well upon recognizing her. "Sorry… I'll go," he started as he turned back to the door.

"Wait, Sigurd, you don't have to leave." He looked back at her with a raised eyebrow. "I'm sorry for last night. I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry."

He was slightly amused, but deliberately didn't show it. "No, it's okay. I'm just an idiot. I'm not worth your time or thoughts."

"I would like to get to know you anyway, Sigurd."

This time, he let a small, mocking smirk slip. "Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe I've just been spoiled too long and would like to see the other side of society."

He wouldn't let the sympathetic words touch his emotions. She simply didn't know who he was, so she couldn't have meant it. Taking the pencil box from Kristin, who had just found it, he gave a final warning before he would let his guard down to the wealthy girl. "I'm not what you think I am. I despise your type of people. We shouldn't have contact with each other. Think about that first. I'd like to be open-minded, so if you persist, obviously you know a cousin of mine," he gestured to Kristin. "I doubt there's any merit in knowing me though." He opened the door again, leaving, before adding a last word, "So long, strange little princess."

Somewhere between the school and his home, it hit him. _Aino_ asked him to go get her pencil from a room where _Aino_ had to have known who her roommates were, the day after _Aino_ came and started talking to Mathias, right before he got the brilliant idea to push him at that girl. This was no coincidence.

· · · — — — · · ·

"Y'know Sigurd?" Kristin directed the question at Anneliese as she sat back down upon her own bed.

"Barely, I only met him yesterday."

"Ah… He's not as bad a person as he thinks he is. He has issues and a past I'm not free or willing to talk about."

"I would have guessed so much."

"But don't think he's exaggerating. He's a lot more than a poor kid. It wouldn't be a stretch to imagine that being associated with him could ruin your reputation. But he's not that person anymore."

_What happened to the man?_ The thought was pounding in her mind, before a suspicion crept in to replace it. _Or rather, what had he done?_

She tried to ignore the questions and ideas her imagination could conjure. That Sigurd carried an air of mystery that she simply couldn't forget. For the first time in her life, she was considering not only the life of the common people she never knew, but also the idea of accepting her eventual rejection from her life. It had happened once before to a dear friend of hers, and she never spoke to him again. Perhaps if she fell from high society, she could meet him again. But back to the strange man. He was the reason she was accepting the unacceptable, right? Was this what it was like to be 'enchanted'?

By 7 p.m., she'd had enough of this. Nearly five hours had passed since he left an open door to her, since she received the warnings about his life. She had to know him. She knew she wouldn't get the answers she wanted right away, but she could at least try to gain his trust.

"Kristin…" she spoke up.

Kristin and Aino were doing whatever they customarily did at this time together, when the quiet call came. "Ja?" the bespectacled blonde answered back.

"Come here please." As soon as Kristin was near enough, she spoke to her quietly, almost nervously. "I want to know Sigurd anyway. Can I have his number?"

Kristin smiled and happily obliged.

· · · — — — · · ·

"_Hello, this is Anneliese Edelstein. I've thought about it and I'd still like to know you_." It had taken her another nearly twenty minutes to think of an appropriate opening message.

His response was fast and short. "_Ok and?_"

"_I don't know._"

"_Not usually this forward, are you?_"

"_Haha aren't you a smart aleck?_" If he was going to be snarky, she could attempt it too.

"_Nope, I just have too much pent up anger toward the world :T Kidding, that's my brother's job_"

"_So… Can I meet up with you at some point?_"

"_Why? I mean, what's wrong with texting?_"

"_Nothing, but can I?_"

"_Whatever. It's not like I do anything all day anyway. I'm at the north pier right now_"

She immediately got up to leave, tapping away as she walked. "_Okay, I'll see you._"

"_Persistent little twerp, aren't you?_"

"_I'm just fascinated by you._"

"_Ooh, that's a first. No actually, it's not... So what, are you going to interview me? Interrogate me?_"

"_I just want to talk._"

It didn't take long to find him, save for a few mis-turns. At the very end of the small pier, with just a bucket and fishing rod beside him, sat Sigurd. He remained still, not even looking when she sat down beside him. "Hey," was all he said, looking down into the water.

Dressed in what she considered casual pants and a blouse, she still felt incredibly formal next to him, in short and a sailor's shirt, barefoot. "Catch anything?"

"Earlier. I'm being lazy now."

"So you just stay out here all day?"

He shrugged. "I have a boat and I'll usually go out on that." Before she could think of anything else to say, he spoke again, this time briefly looking into her eyes. "I thought you'd be like every other rich person, and you're proving me wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"You know, looking down on other people and being rude."

"Oh." She wasn't going to tell him that she'd been exactly like that until meeting him.

"My step-father was like that. I hated him. Where I come from, everyone is considered equal, but I've seen too much hypocrisy on that front, so I've been disillusioned in a sense." Picking up a pebble, he tossed it and watched it skip over the sunset-reddened water a few times before sinking.

"How'd you do that?"

He had to hold back a laugh. "You've never seen someone skip a rock over water?" Shifting to lean back on his elbows, his hand brushed slightly over hers. Both hearts jumped a little, and both immediately tried to think nothing of it, pretending nothing happened.

"Well, in the movies, but I thought it was a special effect."

"You really are a spoiled princess… A princess locked up in a tower with a minimal world view who needs rescued and brought down to reality."

"Are…are you coming on to me?" she chuckled jokingly.

"Not a bit. Even if I did have feelings for you, you'd never accept me."

She frowned, not wanting to get into a big discussion yet. Instead, the sunset seemed a more suitable topic. "It sure is pretty right now. It's almost like a watercolor."

"You like painting?"

"Well, I'm just a collector. An informed collector though."

He never answered. Silence fell and reigned until a tone informing Anneliese that she had received a message disrupted it. "You can answer that, I won't mind," Sigurd shrugged.

Anneliese quickly scanned the text – it was from her cousin, Julia – and paled considerably, unable to pull her eyes from the last, jolting word.

"_Hey annie, eliza told me about ur new bf ;) i figured since u prolly know nothing about boys and stuff, id look him up for u. Sigurd thorvaldson? I didnt know u were into criminals, much less murderers_"

* * *

**A/N: I hope you guys are actually enjoying the story. 'Tis only the beginning~ Review please!  
**

**~Butter~  
**


	4. Chapter 4

_Murderer. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer._ The word wouldn't leave her mind, wouldn't let her sleep, and was beginning to numb her senses. It had to be nearly time for the sun to rise again, but she couldn't tell for sure. After several several minutes of silence following that shocking message, Anneliese had told Sigurd that she felt ill and wished to return to her room. Stating that he wanted to repay her unexplainable and unnecessary kindness toward him, he offered to walk back with her, an offer she didn't refuse. Other than 'goodnight's, no other words passed between them.

_· · · — — — · · ·  
_

_"He's not my boyfriend, Julia. And I didn't know that about him until now. Don't tell anyone please."_

_"I wasn't going to, i was just telling u. Be safe"_

_"Anyway, don't tell me the story. I'd rather hear it from him."_

_"Ok whatev :)"_

· · · — — — · · ·

How like Julia. Though she was obnoxious and loved getting into other people's business, she truly was trustworthy. She had always been the sister Anneliese wanted but never got.

As the night rolled on, she had realized all of what he said before.

_"…scum like me."_

_"I'm not worth your time or thoughts."_

_"I'm not what you think I am."_

_"I doubt there's any merit to knowing me."_

_"You'd never accept me."_

Those were the words of a very guilty young man and now she could see the regret all over him, looking back. Another voice wandered into her mind.

_"Being associated with him could ruin your reputation."_

Of course his own cousin would know about him. Another thought. He said he was 23 and didn't look like he could be lying about his age, but how could a _murderer_ be free at that age? How long ago was the crime?

The questions never stopped. She had to be honest and tell him what she knew and ask for the story. Somehow she still didn't feel afraid of him, and she didn't want to hurt him. She had to be straightforward, so grabbed her phone. 5:43 it read, not that early.

"_I'm going to be completely honest with you._" She lost her nerve and sent just that sentence, waiting to gauge his response.

His answer came almost as quickly as the time before. "_I guess that's better than lying_"

She didn't expect it so soon. "_You're awake?_"

"_I'm insomniac, so what?_"

"_Okay. Last night, my cousin told me that you murdered someone. So I do know about you now._"

The wait for a reply was almost terrifying. With every minute that passed, she convinced herself that this was it, she'd never learn the truth. Over ten minutes later, a response finally came. "_Your cousin told you?_"

"_We know the biggest gossip ever, so I guess she heard about you from there. Is it true?_"

"_Yes. I knew you'd reject me anyway, so whatever, it won't hurt me_"

"_I never said that._"

"_...What?_"

"_I don't know what happened. I'd like to hear your side of the story before I make a judgment of your character._"

"_Are you kidding me? You can't be serious. That's just... What sane person would react like that? I don't understand_"

"_I want to give you a chance to tell me what happened directly._"

"_You're the kindest stranger I've ever met. This is going to sound weird, but thank you_"

· · · — — — · · ·

The duo agreed to meet that afternoon at Sigurd's place, when Mathias and Egil would be away at classes. Anneliese found her way without much hassle.

Sigurd was nervous, but collected when she arrived. His first words upon welcoming her were simple. "You know, this would've been the perfect setup to kill you."

She stopped to stare wordlessly at him momentarily before shrugging it off. "I believe you wouldn't."

"Thanks. I'm not crazy, I swear."

She took a moment to take in the dwelling place. It was small, but impeccably clean, save for a stack of mugs beside the sole couch. Another noteworthy detail was the darkness of the room. A very small crack in the curtains and a single lamp was all the light.

"Can I get you some coffee? Go ahead and sit down, and tell me if anything's uncomfortable."

She took her seat at the far end of the couch, leaving room for him to sit if he wished. "No, thank you for the coffee. It's very dark…"

He took the hint and turned on the main light, before excusing himself and heading around the corner.

The light proved her first observation of the appearingly obsessive cleanness of the space. The quiet also gave her time to reflect on the man himself. He seemed so normal, other than the air of depression that followed him.

He returned shortly, bringing another mug, the scent gave away that it carried coffee, strong coffee. Indicating the stack on the floor, he jokingly explained, "Some people have antidepressants, others have psychiatrists, I have caffeine." Stretching out his lanky frame on the floor, he quickly turned to the subject at hand. "I hope you understand this is an incredibly hard thing to talk about."

"I can imagine."

"I probably should start at the beginning…

"My father ditched my Mamma before I was born. She was 18 when I was born, came from the middle of nowhere in the mountains, and had nothing at all. I was still a baby when she moved countries, trying to make things better. She married a rich man purely for his money, but he loved her, he'd do anything for her. He hated me though, because Mamma loved me more, Mamma did everything she did to take care of me. I was three when they married, five when Egil was born and six when we moved back to Norway. I was an angry child, and grew up in constant chaos. Sverre, my step-father, always knew Mamma didn't love him, he eventually fell out of love with her and hated her. Divorcing her would have been logical, but he didn't, and he controlled and abused her. For four years, I watched her being tormented and beat by that man, I tried to get her to leave, but she wouldn't. She had no future and her only wish was to take care of her children, something she couldn't do without his money. When I was thirteen, she killed herself."

"You told me that. Also, that you believed she was killed."

"Yeah… Mamma only wanted to care for us, she couldn't do that when she was dead. Suicide doesn't make sense…"

"So your theory is?"

"Maybe I'm just selfish and wanted her to be there for me, never considering how much she suffered," he spoke even quieter than normal, rolling onto his stomach and examining the carpet in sorrow. Eventually, he picked back up his narrative. "I believe Sverre made her do it. He was tired of her. Who knows what he would have done with us, he didn't like Egil either, his own son. Something seemed off to me when he told us she died, kinda like he was relieved. I lost it. I was already a violent kid, and I had threatened him that if something happened to Mamma or Egil, I'd kill him. Within two weeks of her death, I planned it all out, and I killed Sverre.

"At thirteen, I was never really punished for it. Under the age of criminal responsibility, they said I wasn't old enough to really understand what I did. Mathias' parents adopted Egil, I was put in psychiatric care. It drove me mad how they treated it, and I grew to want to be punished for what I did, because I understood it. I became a young, crazed anarchist. Mamma's death went unnoticed by the world, and that drove me insane. They diagnosed me as psychotic, schizotypal, it changed from shrink to shrink. Mathias' family moved away shortly after. I lost everything in under three months."

"I'm so sorry, Sigurd…"

"No, don't be. All I want is not to be judged and not to be pitied. Everything I did was out of my own choice and reasoning, sane or not is debatable.

"That was the understandable part: I murdered the man I held responsible for Mamma's death. But it wasn't enough. I wanted to horrify the world. The day after my fifteenth birthday…"

_· · · — — — · · ·  
_

_"Hilda, I feel sick." A teenaged Sigurd walked into a small kitchen, looking disheveled and tired._

_"Do you need me to call a doctor?" a middle aged woman standing over the stove answered back._

_The boy leaned over the counter next to her, eying several things lying on the surface. His gaze eventually came to rest on a knife. "If you want to. I'm not so sure it'll be necessary."_

_"Well, how do you feel sick?"_

_"I just…I don't know. I don't want to go to school."_

_"I'll call and tell them that you won't make it." The woman, Hilda, was a sort of foster caregiver for the boy. Only two months ago, she had taken him in into her home after working with him frequently over the past year, as a psychiatrist. Sigurd seemed to be progressing mentally and proclaimed his hatred for the institution he had lived at since his initial crime. He wasn't the first struggling child Hilda had agreed to care for, but would be the last._

_After that, he had gone back to bed for a few hours. Around 11, he rose and made his way back to the kitchen. Hilda wasn't there. He knew she was still home, as watching over him was her job, him staying home meant she did too. Picking up the knife, he went to look for her. At last, his plans would happen. He was sure nothing would go wrong because his motive was to be caught. He found her reading in her favorite chair and attacked. She barely had the time to scream before the skinny youth clapped his hand over her mouth. Before that morning, she had never seen him show signs of violence, though she knew it was possible he would. Her observations were that he was schizoaffective, and unfortunately, the symptoms began to surface at the hardest point of his life. She never suspected that he would lash out again for no apparent reason._

_Once the woman was dead, Sigurd ran, taking only a key with him. Years before, his only request was that his mother's belongings were brought with him to the city and locked away in storage. Now they would be useful. His mother had been a hunter. The guns she had were a well-kept secret, but Sigurd knew of them and where to find them. During the next two hours, he ran wild, killing another five people before collapsing in a blood- and tear-soaked heap in a park._

_At first they thought he was another victim. Woken up by a paramedic, his first, stoic words were, "So you came and found me? Will you jail me this time?"_

· · · — — — · · ·

Anneliese was horrified, wide-eyed as he described his crimes. No words would come to her agape mouth.

He finally looked up at her momentarily and noticed her distress. "I'm sorry if that was too crass a tale for you. But it is what it is. I remember it clearly because I'm constantly haunted by it.

"Anyway, I got what I wanted, I got locked up. I was a lost kid, with no aim other than to justify losing everything. The trial and going through the courts and the media gave me the chance to make people care about Mamma's death. Once I had done all that, all I had was a lonely prison cell and I became extremely depressed. In my anger, I destroyed every chance at life I had. I wanted to die. It was probably a miracle that someone noticed. Just over a year into my sentence, I was taken back to psychiatric care. They finally decided that I acted in a manic episode and then fell into a depressive one. They said I didn't really deserve to be imprisoned. Once I was deemed sane and not a hazard to my own or anyone else's health anymore, I was released. I searched out the little bit of a family I had left and came here within a few months.

"According to the 'professionals', I'm bipolar. I don't know. I can't get a real job because everyone finds out I'm a murderer and/or crazy. I never finished school, so there's really no point. Mathias will defend everything I have ever done, but I don't think Egil ever forgave me. I killed his father. But we pretty much have a no-talk policy on the subject, we all just try to exist like everything's normal."

When Sigurd looked back up at Anneliese, her expression had melted back into the sympathetic one. His eyes froze on her face. He'd never looked closely at her before, always too ashamed to look at her directly. She looked so beautiful, like an angel sent into his hell. Soft brown hair framed her face, cascading over her shoulders gracefully, with two small braids wrapping around her head and a wild fly-away hair curling above her face. The violet eyes that seemed harsh and cold before now appeared accepting and tender. Her face itself, round yet not plump, with skin that he could imagine to feel like velvet… _Wait, stop. _Was he really thinking this? He mentally slapped himself. No, he couldn't just fall in love with her. Things like this just weren't supposed to happen. He was the dirt of society, not even worthy to touch her shoes. It was enough that she took notice of him.

Besides that, he had no idea how he was supposed to behave around a young lady. He'd lost out in the usual teen romances, summer affairs, etc. Never mind that he had never been kissed, he had never been embraced by a girl — besides his mother, aunt and cousin — nor had he even held a girl's hand, never danced to some clichéd love hymn.

Speaking of 'never's, before this, he had never told his story so honestly, from start to end. Perhaps a sign to end the 'never's in his life? A true smile of contentedness crossed his face for the first time in ages, his eyelashes fluttered shut involuntarily. With a giant weight lifted from his chest, he was drawn into a deep sleep.

* * *

**A/N: And so, the tragedy of Sigurd's life is revealed… WHY DO YOU NORWEGIANS KEEP READING THIS? IT MAY BE AU, BUT IT IS STILL YOUR COUNTRY I AM PORTRAYING AS A PSYCHOTIC. I don't understand… /sobbu  
**

**The terrifying amount of popularity of this in Norway made me actually do research on the Norwegian judicial system, but it was confusing and I might have screwed it up. Forgive me.  
**

**I doubt anyone is still reading this author's note. lol if you are, as I always ask, please review! I accept constructive criticisms, and like any author, my heart warms at that little Review Alert email.  
**

**This was a very quick update, because this story just barfs itself out so fast out of my brain. I really should stop to update one of my other fics, so I'm going to try to do that, if this one will let me go.  
**

**~Butter~  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I know I said I was going to update one of my other stories, but this popped into my head and wouldn't leave, so…**

**Obligatory When They Cry inspired chapter~ I plan on doing another of these, but with mostly Higurashi songs, and from Anneliese's perspective. At some point. Mostly a fluffy filler chapter, but has some important plot pieces.  
**

* * *

"_Hello_" No, erase that.

"_So what kind of stuff do you like?_" That doesn't work either.

"_I wanted to talk to you, but I have no idea what to say_" Too blunt.

"_Do you even care about me?_" Stop trying.

"_Fgtyujerkedhrjkt_" Brilliant.

"_This marks the end of the long sleep of the truth that's been distorted and broken_" Yeah, Sigurd. Go on and send her a line of some song your brother introduced you to. That doesn't even make sense.

They had first met on Sunday, it was now Saturday morning. After he had told her his story on Tuesday, they hadn't seen each other, but they kept in touch every day. Anneliese had been so fanatical in solving Sigurd's mystery, that when the tale was told, she felt unsure what to do next. She didn't want to just go on with her life as if he didn't exist after he had to have put so much trust in her to say what he did, but her interest in him waned considerably. The best she could do was politely stay in touch.

On the other hand, Sigurd's interest in her only grew. She made an impact on him, shattering his stereotypes of her class and stayed open to him even after the truth. He could sense she was drifting away from his world and wanted to cling onto her and keep her from abandoning him. He had no other friends of his outside of family, though he couldn't consider her that way. He still looked at her as a stranger, albeit a stranger he didn't want to let go of.

It was a dreary, rainy day, trapped indoors by the storm with nothing to do. Well, he could walk aimlessly and find things to straighten or rearrange, or see what Mathias and Egil were doing, but he'd already done those…at least three or four times each. Nothing better to do than stare at his cellphone screen, trying to come up with a conversation starter with that girl.

"Siiiiiig!" Mathias came from nowhere and landed beside where Sigurd's head lay. "Whatcha doing, Sigurd? Hm? Whatcha doing?"

"Scare the life out of me next time, why don't you?" He dropped the phone to his chest. "What I do is none of your concern."

"Aw, c'mon. What's the big secret?"

"None of your business."

"What about Egil's business?"

"None of his business either. None of anyone's business."

"Aha, must be some really classified information to be off-limits to even the lillebror…"

"Go away, Mats."

"Hey, one question. Did you ever see that one girl again? Y'know, the one from last weekend?"

Sigurd froze momentarily, then frowned. "Yeah, why?"

"No reason." Mathias grinned, patting his cousin's head before he got up and left alone again.

After a few moments of confusion, he picked back up his previous activity. "_Hello, my name is bored. Talk to me?_"

A short moment later, Anneliese's reply came. "_Okay. Talk about what?_"

"_I dunno. Do you have a dream?_"

"_What do you mean?_"

"_Like a goal. I dunno. Like Egil's dream is to be a geologist and Mathias' dream is free beer. Something like that_"

"_I don't know._"

"_Come on, you're in college, you have to know something about yourself_"

"_No, I don't. Not really._"

"_Oh god, spoiled princess routine again?_"

"_What's your dream then?_"

"_I thought I said I destroyed my life. I have nothing. Geez_"

"_Then why are you even alive? What do you live for?_"

"_Oh... I guess I just want to see the people I love happy_"

"_And your own happiness?_"

"_Doesn't exist_"

"_Well, that wasn't a depressing statement._"

"_What do you live for then?_"

"_I used to think it was for mindless pleasure... I'm not so sure anymore. You'd call me princess again_."

"_You never intended to do anything with your life? Ever?_"

"_When I was a child I wanted to be a painter._"

"_Aha, I knew there was a dream. What about now?_"

"_I don't know. Why is it that I must have a dream when you don't?_"

"_You're normal, not a... me, 'psychotic', 'insane', murderer. You know_"

"_I see._"

"_If I were to dream, there's a song. '__When I grasp roses, they bloom madly and die__'. That's about it_"

"_I do not understand what you just said._"

"_You wouldn't_"

When she left that afternoon, he was still asleep, and so had left a note under his hand. Picking up the paper she had left him, he scribbled on the back, almost like a plea to her she would never read. "_For whom was I born, for whom do I cry? I ask questions with no response. In the small caged bird, I can see myself. My fragile heart is dyed red._" He was fond of proverbs and sayings, of riddles and by association, lyrics. To any words he related, he would cling to, even using them in spells of confusion and border-line depression like this. A lifeline, as if someone, whoever first wrote the words he quoted, understood his thoughts when he couldn't.

_No one can free themselves from the sin that flows in their veins._

_Just once, rise above your demise._

_This open wound is like a crimson rose that blooms in my heart._

_Don't listen to your true wishes._

Also inspiration to move on. Words spoke to him, pulling him out from the depths of his self-dug grave. Symbols painted a picture for him to envision at the darkest hour. Wait. Paint? The word ran through his mind again. Anneliese loved painting. The idea of painting for her struck him, soon to be shot down by his own reason. He couldn't do anything for her. Even if she took pity on him, they were still two people meant to be separated. He could never be fit to be anything to her, and he should drop this stupid idea his heart had imagined up.

Yet…he wanted to paint something for her. Even if she never saw it, or maybe never knew where it came from. He knew nothing about art, but braving the storm, he set out to buy paints.

He was questioned by both Egil and Mathias, the only answer he gave was, "I was bored."

As he started to work, his mind filled with the question of his own dream. He only had one. Getting up from the paper, he quietly walked across the house, remembering the one thing that kept him alive during his imprisoned time.

"Egil…" The younger brother turned around from his laptop to answer him. "Smile."

Egil furrowed his brow slightly, before attempting an on-the-spot smile for his brother.

_That I'd lost them was too much to consider  
Even though I struggled so desperately to reach out my hand and take them back_

_My chest was tightened by loneliness and despair  
My heart felt like it would break_

_But your smiling face remained in my memories  
Always encouraging me_

_Will you smile for me like always?  
Right now, it's all I continue to ask for_

* * *

**A/N: Songs:  
**

** watch?v=ZcdOfBXVhtg (Entreat)  
**

** watch?v=dP896Z370Oo (Chain)  
**

** watch?v=SHLDltLx3sY (Katayoku no Tori (One-Winged Bird))  
**

** watch?v=ihIeog5Kn60 (You)  
**

**I'm pretty sure this chapter isn't good. Mostly because I wrote it in a span of about two hours, when I usually spend two+ days on a chapter. Lol  
**

**Yes, Egil is the gratuitous otaku. No, you don't care for my sorry excuse why. uwu**

**~Butter~**


	6. Chapter 6

Something strange was happening to Sigurd, that was apparent. Frequent were the days that both of his housemates were up long before him, as opposed to how he had always been the first one awake, becoming bored with the sporadic sleep. After a few days, his behaviors became suspicious, as the three were used to routines that had been set in stone over the past few years, and how they had always tried to be open to one another when they changed. Not only had his insomnia mysteriously vanished after plaguing him as long as they could remember, but his habits were even changing. Some days he'd go without coffee, leaving him irritable and jittery until someone made him drink something caffeinated. He seemed distracted, but not in the ways he had before. He even _smiled_.

The strangest thing though, was his contentedness to fiddle with the small painting he had begun over a week ago. He wasn't a natural artist at all, but a perfectionist, he would spend hours late into the night painting and re-painting and over and over, on one small space. It didn't seem to be that the art itself that had sparked the change in him, but rather another symptom of the change.

The first guess had been that something moved in his mind, or something had been resolved, a partly correct estimation. With whispers shared between them over a common interest in Sigurd's well-being, Mathias and Egil began to piece together what was really happening. They had always doubted Sigurd denial of loneliness, and perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but suddenly he seemed to them to be affected by an emotion they had teased that he was incapable of: love; or more likely, infatuation.

"Bro…" Mathias and Egil had cornered Sigurd just a few minutes after he had flopped into a chair after returning from a bad day of fishing. Mathias spoke first, almost hovering over the chair. "Promise to be honest with me?"

"Sure…" Sigurd half-heartedly replied, keeping his eyelids firmly shut after opening just one to see both Mathias and Egil standing before him.

"Who's been on your mind lately?"

"What?"

"Can't take a hint? Okay, who are you in lo-"

Egil cut in, correcting his cousin. "Infatuated. Who are you infatuated with? I know you are."

Sigurd's eyes shot open, staring at his little brother silently for a minute. "…Since when did you care?" His tone of voice wasn't accusatory at all, more one of honest inquiry. He quickly turned his gaze to his hands — a sort of tic when he was flustered — and clarified himself. "I mean…you've never seemed interested by me. I've thought you didn't really care."

Now it was Egil's turn to be flustered. "Nonsense… What gave you that idea…? Yeah, you're a stranger to me still, you're kinda weird, and I don't understand you, but you _are_ my brother. I just want to know…"

"…who I'm 'infatuated' with. I'm not. Besides, you all must be really stupid to ask."

"Mathias spoke up again, leaning closer to see the faintest blush on his cousin, and using a whining voice. "Don't lie to us. Tell use what's going on in your head."

Sigurd grabbed a pillow and slapped it into Mathias' face. "_Nei_, it's my head. You don't have a right to it."

The smack wasn't hard, but just enough to throw the tall man off balance long enough for Egil to inch closer and whisper, "You worry me sometimes. If you ever want to talk…"

· · · — — — · · ·

12:03, three minutes past the time they had set. Kristin shifted on the bench yet again. Maybe Sigurd was lost…? Ah, a blond head appeared around a corner, with his familiarly quick gait. She stood up and waved him over.

The young man sat beside her without a word, preferring to brush his hair back and forth. For the nearly four years since he moved away from Norway, Kristin had been his confidante. The two had hardly known each other throughout childhood, only meeting a few times a year when the family gathered, but she had been the first to approach the grieving boy at his mother's funeral. Without a word spoken between them, he bonded with her, although neither knew that six years would pass without them meeting again.

Sigurd leaned over, resting his head against her shoulder. "Thanks, Kjerstin."

"Ja, my pleasure," was her simple, soft-spoken response. "Having another episode?"

"Nei, why would you say that?"

"You've got a weird look in your eyes."

"I promise I'll take the stupid medicines."

"Good boy." She patted his head jokingly, as they fell silent for another short bit.

"Egil and Mats are pestering me."

"I know."

"What do you know about that Anneliese girl?"

"Ah…" the blonde nodded her head knowingly. "She's a strange one." Kristin stopped to think up an appropriate description of her roommate. "Big, political family, lots of money, probably doesn't even care much about school at all, seems like a bit of a daddy's girl. Somehow I think there's a heart underneath that. Wouldn't know though, she doesn't talk to us much, pretty much ignores us. Got a friend from the family's social group that is pretty out-going though. Not sure how much they get along. Cousins are pretty nice too."

"Mmn…" Sigurd moved to rest his chin in his hands. "Sounds like someone I'd hate."

"Do you have an interest in her? You didn't seem so thrilled when you came up to our room, and I know she's seen you since…"

"I don't know, I think so. It's strange… She was so…unlike what you just described to me. And then…it seemed like she just turned cold. I'm such an idiot."

"Nej, Sjur. I definitely think she's got some sort of interest in you, whether it's romantic or not is the question."

"I should have lied."

The girl shook her head. "Lying is never the answer, you know that."

"I told her what happened. I'm not a person she should be with and she now knows it."

Kristin leaned over and gently wrapped her arms around her older cousin, patting his back. "I'll see if I can talk to her."

He accepted the gesture. "You can tell Egil what I told you. I just…don't know how to talk about these things with him."

She laughed softly. "And not Mats?"

"He's an idiot and you know I don't trust him."

· · · — — — · · ·

"Excuse me?" A befuddled Anneliese looked up from her book at the tall blonde that had caught her off-guard with a pretty much unintelligible sentence.

"I said, 'Can I talk to you about my cousin?'"

She dropped the book down on the bed. "Sigurd? Yeah, sure."

Kristin took a seat on the bed as well. "You see…he's very grateful for you. You probably know this, but the guy has no friends, he only has this little, tiny family. His brother says that ever since he met you, he's changed. Like all he's ever wanted was for someone to tell him it's okay who doesn't have a connection to him."

"I understand. I felt bad for forcing the truth out of him so quickly."

"I don't think he minded." She paused, considering a question that may or may not be received well. "Ms. Anneliese… Did you only want the truth?"

"I don't understand…"

"Um… Like… Did you ever really want to know _Sigurd Thorvaldson_ or did you just want to know his life story?"

The Austrian suddenly felt pinned down by the question, though the asker still appeared as shy as ever. She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. "I…didn't want to know him, I guess. I was absorbed by a fanaticism by the mystery surrounding him, I pitied him, I was willing to give up everything at one point to know what it was, but once I found out…I suppose my interest left. I had nothing left to wonder about him." She fell silent, before a disclaimer suddenly came to her mind and she spat it out rapidly. "It's not that I didn't care, I just…I don't know."

The younger girl's voice dropped. "I've known Sigurd…all of my life, and there are things I still wonder about him. I'm the one he tells everything to, and I still wonder and worry. A person's history is not all there is to that person. They have a present and they have a future, whether they believe it or not. Sigurd is still living, still breathing and thinking, treating him only as his past is wrong." In a sudden, uncharacteristic boldness, Kristin looked up, directly into Anneliese's stunned eyes. "I want you to apologize to him. You left an impression on him as a hope that he had a hope in life, and then disappeared. I won't let another person hurt him."

* * *

**A/N: I know that this story is…lacking readers. XD Somehow I really don't care and I just keep writing it.**

**Next chapter will be more Anneliese-centered for once~  
**

**Reviews and criticisms are nice *w*  
**

**~Butter~  
**


	7. Chapter 7

_Knock knock._

The knock was soft, too soft to be anyone familiar, plus unexpected. Mathias shot a puzzled glance at…no one, he just then realized that he was the only one awake. Well, Egil had been up and was already gone for the day.

_Knock knock._

Wasn't it still too early for people to visit? This must be important then. He quickly got up from his seat on the couch, coffee cup still in hand and dressed for bed, and opened the door to meet a stone-faced, official-looking young woman. She looked weirdly familiar.

"Is Sigurd home?"

Asking for Sigurd? "Yeah, let me go get him. Come inside," he quickly answered, his mind racing over her identity. She looked too young to be a psychiatrist, maybe she was one of those shrinks' assistants. That would explain why she was familiar, Mathias had gone to some of his cousin's therapy sessions before. The thought of her being the unnamed crush that Sigurd had denied two days earlier crossed his mind, but he rejected it. For one, his cousin seemed too depressed with the subject to have an actual relationship with the person, as well as that she just didn't seem to fit the part. Also, if he knew she was coming, wouldn't he be up?

The brunette sat down quietly on the worn couch, folding her hands in her lap as Mathias took off around a corner. He soon reappeared, headed for the coffee maker, and called back to the young woman. "Sigurd'll be out in a minute. Just warning you, he's been border-line depressed, I hope you understand."

She nodded softly as an only response.

The blond man disappeared again with the cup of coffee. A short bit later, Sigurd slowly shuffled out to the main room, followed by Mathias. His hair and clothes were a mess, eyes squinted even in the dull light. He swallowed a yawn, only to sneeze a second later. Upon recognizing the visitor, he furrowed his brow in disbelief, then mumbled out an awkward greeting.

"Oh, hei… I wasn't awake." He then waved at Mathias, introducing the two, "Bror, this is Anneliese Edelstein. Anneliese, Mathias Andersen." Once the obligatory greetings were finished, Sigurd started to turn back to the kitchen, empty mug dangling clumsily from his hand. "Walk and talk. I really didn't expect you…"

She stood up again, ready to follow him. "I wanted to surprise you. It might have been a bad idea, I'm sorry…"

"Nei, I don't care." He flipped up the light switch as he walked by, remembering her last visit. "I needed to get up. I've been so lazy."

She checked twice to be sure Mathias had hung back — he had — and spoke in a lowered voice. "I wanted to personally say I'm sorry, Sigurd."

He briefly quirked an eyebrow at her as he leaned his back against the counter, crossing his arms as the black appliance began to brew his coffee again. "Oh yeah? What for?"

"For being small-minded. I should have thought about you as a person, and I didn't really."

"Eh," he shrugged, "no one thinks of me as a person. I'm either undeserving of the honor of being human, or just another mentally ill statistic. I never expected anything more."

"No, Sigurd. You…you should have a second chance. You're too young to give up."

"Why should you, Princess, care?" He turned away, to finish fixing the coffee, but also so he didn't have to look at her. "This is the answer you won't give me, and if we're going to be open and honest, I can't trust you at all until I get it."

"Open and honest, huh?" She rested a hand gently on his arm, causing him to stiffen and turn his head back to her. She looked him in the eyes as she gathered her words, eyes that seemed so stoic, but had a hidden sadness to them when one looked close, a sadness that he was obviously fighting at the moment. "I was trying to say it, but I suppose I wasn't clear enough. When I first met you, I was blackmailed into talking to you, but I became obsessed with finding out why you acted the way you did. I thought I cared about you, but in truth, I only cared about your past and finding out what it was. I realized this only recently and I'm sorry, it was wrong."

Sigurd turned back away from her. "So what?"

"My mother used to say that in a perfect world, the rich would take care of the poor…"

"A leveling of the classes, sounds like socialism. I come from Norway, and having seen everything I have, I can tell you: there is no such 'perfect world'. Don't pity me."

"Possibly, but you deserve something better than this. I won't accept your arguments otherwise."

"Which brings me back to 'so what?'" At that, he picked up the mug and walked away, back to the living room, plopping himself down on the couch dejectedly. When she followed after him, he turned to Mathias with a cold look, and waved his hand at him. "Kom deg ut." The tall Dane quickly obeyed, knowing better than to argue when Sigurd acted this way.

Anneliese cautiously sat on the other side of the seat, becoming discouraged quickly. "Sigurd, all I want is to try to do something for you. I don't want to be the 'princess' anymore, you've shown me how rotten I have been. Would you like something…perhaps to go back to school? Do something to make a change in your life? I have the money after all…"

A shrug was all the answer she would get.

· · · — — — · · ·

Anneliese lay sprawled on a baby blue bed, with her white-haired and dual-tone-eyed cousin, Julia, beside her. Though they were the closest of friends and cousins, they hadn't actually spent time together since summer break ended five weeks earlier, as they attended different schools.

"What're you up to?" the albino girl with a thick German accent and tomboy-ish voice spoke up.

"I am entirely confused, Jul."

"Ooh, what is it? Advance mathemechanics? Two plus two equals fish?"

Anneliese chuckled and smacked her jokingly. "Stop it, I'm trying to be serious now."

"Ja, well I'm trying not to be serious. Oi! Don't hit me!" She childishly stuck her tongue out at the brunette. "Okay, I'm doing serious listening now."

"It's… Do you remember Sigurd?"

"Sigurd…? Oh, your non-boyfriend." She pulled out her phone, holding it up to her cousin's face. "This is him, ja?"

Her eyebrows soared at the image of herself and the Norwegian sitting beside each other.

"I'll take that as a yes," Julia smirked, switching to another photo of the young man. "Liz sent these to me before she got bored of all the non-action. So what's up? Obviously the murder charge hasn't changed your mind."

Anneliese sighed, knowing she'd bring that up. "He's bipolar. They released him because of that and a history of mental issues that may or may not have really affected him."

"So does he even remember what happened?"

"Unfortunately for my ears and mind, yes, and in great detail."

"Ha, he told you _everything_?"

"Yeah, but that's not what I want to talk about. He's just…a confusing guy."

"Like how?"

"Shut up, idiot, and let me explain." Anneliese proceeded to tell how she had backed off from him, how she had mixed thoughts on what to do, how Kristin had uncharacteristically confronted her, and how she tried to offer a helping hand to him. "I don't know what he's thinking. One minute, his family tells me how depressed and lonely he is, the next, he's acting like he just wants me to never come back. I understand that he's been disappointed over and over in life and he had trust issues, but…"

"You don't understand. Haven't you considered that he's…romantically interested in you?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"If he _is_ lonely and rejected, wouldn't it make sense to feel for someone who came to him, then didn't reject him after finding out what you found out?"

"That's…absurd."

"I mean, some people try really hard to hide it when they have a crush, especially when they fear rejection. You're pretty, Annie. There's nothing absurd about the idea. Why don't you ask him out?"

Anneliese only stared at her skeptically.

"Oh, come on. This is the twenty-first century, it's acceptable for the girl to ask. If nothing comes of it, so what?"

Still no break in the brunette's expression, causing Julia to roll her eyes.

"Fine, it's not a date. I'll go with you. It'd be weird, but if you need someone to hold your hand…"

"Whatever."

"And no one will tell your daddy. Since you'd bring me, he can bring someone, and it can just be some kids hanging out."

* * *

**A/N: First things first, I think I'm going to take a bit of time off from this story. For one, I have about…a lot of stories that I need to finish up and/or update, and…yeah. That's about it. Three stories that need updating (not including this one) and two that are close to ready for posting.  
**

**And since I keep forgetting to mention this… Kjerstin is Kristin's real name. She goes by Kristin because Kjerstin is really fun to pronounce in America. Mats and Sjur are nicknames for Mathias and Sigurd, respectively, but that's almost obvious.  
**

**Hei = hey  
**

**Bror = brother  
**

******Nei = no**

**Kom deg ut = get out  
**


	8. Chapter 8

"So you're sure this isn't some kind of date?"

Sigurd was pointedly ignoring the tall Dane, no matter how much he talked.

"Bror, I know you like her. Why am I coming again?"

Sigurd finally slammed his hand down onto the counter, turning to glare at him. "Do you have to question everything?"

"Nej-"

"Don't answer that." He shifted his eyes to nothing in particular, softening his voice. "I don't know what's going on. Her cousin's going with her and she said I should bring someone too. If you ask me, the cousin just wants to meet me. What's between us is not romance, it's simply an opportunity, I think. You know how I feel about meeting strangers, and you're far more outgoing than Egil. That's why you're going."

"Back up, what do you mean by 'opportunity'?"

"She wants to offer me whatever I want. She's rich, dolt."

"So what if what you want is her?" Mathias flashed an implicating grin, earning him an elbow to the stomach.

"I do not. Look, I don't know if I'll take the offer."

"Just get some money from her, you know we could use it."

"Don't you understand?" The frustration flashed right back into Sigurd's eyes. "The dilemma is whether to ruin the life of an innocent because she associated with me. I've decided not to hate her because my stereotyping was wrong, but the girl doesn't seem to understand that I will destroy the life she has."

Mathias was left without an answer for minutes. "Romeo and Juliet?"

"Ended tragically, if you remember."

"So you do like her?"

Sigurd sighed and rolled his eyes. "I don't know, okay? If you recall, I have no experience in such things." In a whisper, he finished, "They say when you're in love, you just know it, but I don't know it, so I must not be." Not wishing to discuss any farther, he simply walked away.

"Bror, you said we're leaving in ten, don't forget!"

"Ja, ja."

Sigurd was right in that he wasn't in love with Anneliese Edelstein, but that wasn't to say he had no feelings for her at all. In naivety, he assumed he was either fully in love or completely not interested, so the middle ground was confusing. His wishes for her attention, while still wanting to protect her from himself, left him torn on how to approach her.

· · · — — — · · ·

After much arguing on which was the correct way to turn, the two young women got to the park they had agreed to meet at, albeit five minutes late. After a quick scan, Anneliese pointed out two blonds on a swing bench. It was an amusing sight, Mathias having his tall body crammed into two seats, attempting to rock the bench with his hands on the ground, while Sigurd was digging his heels into the ground to stop it. Eventually, he pushed Mathias off balance, long limbs flying wildly as he tried to keep himself from falling into the gravel below, narrowly missing his cousin's face several times.

"They certainly seem to be…a very interesting duo," Julia held back a laugh, for the sole reason of not catching their attention.

Anneliese simply began to walk over to them, Julia following beside her. Sigurd noticed them soon as well, getting up and walking their way, with Mathias right behind. Once they met, Julia was quick to be the first to speak.

"Julia Beilschmidt," she grinned, offering handshakes to both men.

"Sigurd Thorvaldson."

"Mathias Andersen."

Julia closely examined both faces, noting that even in her four-inch heeled boots, she was still around three inches shorter than Sigurd, fiver or six from Mathias. It was clear that they were doing the same visual appraisal of her. This was not just a meeting, but an evaluation of strange and unfamiliar types on both sides.

Julia broke the silence again. "Okay, I'm ordering pizza for us all, so what are we all wanting?"

Sigurd seemed barely intrigued by the food, Mathias, on the other hand, enthralled. "Ooh, Sjur! We should get Hawaiian pizza with a Pepsi and it'll be just like your first meal over here!"

The young man rolled his eyes with just a small hint of a smile. "Ja, sure."

Mathias turned back to the albino young woman. "Yeah, that's what we want. It'll be so nostalgic."

Julia snorted a chuckle before calling in the order, as the group moved to a picnic table under a pavilion.

As they sat down, Mathias directed a question to the fair-haired girl. "So are you like, German or something?"

"I'm German, she's Austrian. There's a difference."

"Ah, I'm Danish, he's Norwegian. Well, my mamma was Norwegian, but she moved to Denmark and married a Dane, and I was born there, but we went back and forth to Norway a lot. We moved here when I was barely 15, I'm 24 now."

Sigurd inserted a little more into the story. "Where Mamma and my aunts came from was in the mountains where it's not really clear where the border with Sweden is, but they were _born_ in Norway. I came from there too, before we moved around and ended up in Trondheim. I came here when I was 19, I'm 23 now."

Julia felt compelled to offer as much information as they had. "Annie was born in Vienna and moved here…as a little girl. I was born here, but spent all of my life until college back and forth between here and Berlin. I'm 23, Annie's 22."

In the interest of small talk, Sigurd decided to add to his story that of Egil's. "My brother was still 8 when he moved here with them. He's addicted to cola and the internet, he's become so American."

"My parents adopted Egil when his parents died," Mathias clarified.

Julia almost asked why just the one brother, but tactfully kept her mouth shut, figuring to herself it had either to do with Sigurd's mental illness or criminal charges. Instead, she asked, "How old is your brother now?"

"18, going on 19." Sigurd felt far more comfortable talking about Egil.

"They're both addicted to caffeine," Mathias laughed. "Just Egil prefers Coke and Sig coffee."

Both girls allowed themselves social chuckles, as Sigurd had a sudden thought, blurting it out as if he was no longer ashamed of his past. "I wonder if it's something where abused kids get addicted to stuff easier…" Within moments, he realized what he said, feeling the awkward looks from the others over his turn to serious words. His following admission was quiet and direct. "Yes, I was abused as a child."

"I'm so sorry…" Julia quickly spoke, the other two nervously remained silent, already knowing this fact.

In just a couple of minutes of the newfound silence, Sigurd stood up, walking away completely. After the simple "He's shy" explanation from Mathias, Anneliese rose herself, going after him.

Leaning across the table, Julia spoke in a near whisper to the man she was now left with. "Look, I don't know what you know, and you don't know what I know, so let's put our heads together to figure this out."

"Okay?" was Mathias' slightly confused response.

"To first straighten out what we do and don't know, tell me what you know about Annie."

"Um… I don't really know her, or who she is, or even how they met… Honestly, I'm surprised he could make a friend on his own."

"They met at our friend's party that she forced Annie to go to."

Suddenly, the lightship went on in the blond's head. "Oh yeah…! I remember that. He was all upset over it too… And I think, I'm not real sure, but I think he likes her. It doesn't make sense because she's who she is, but that's what it seems like. Okay, that's all I know."

Julia rested her cheek on her hand before beginning her turn to speak. "I know he's bipolar and possibly schizophrenic or something, I know he killed people as a teenager, and I know a bit of his and Annie's history, like how she asked him about what happened and stuff, she didn't want to reject him because obviously he's been rejected over and over, but didn't know what to do, and he got depressed or something thereafter."

Mathias quickly clarified the first point. "They've thrown around stuff from all over the schizophrenia spectrum, but there is no official diagnosis other than bipolar. It used to be that he's schizoaffective, but after time, they threw out that one. Different doctors still return to schizo, but nothing's official. I think his current doctor is pushing something again, but…I don't know."

"Ah…but the point we're trying to get here now is what's it between those two. It makes sense to me at least, that he'd like her. The thing is that her behavior toward him is quite atypical for her, toward someone of you guys' status. I'm just being honest here."

"You think she likes him too?"

Julia examined her fingernails as she talked. "Intrigued by him, yes. Confused, yes. Really likes him, no. However not all relationships have to start by two people just falling in love. Some people need time…and a little shove in the right direction." She turned her attention back to Mathias. "What we have is two people whose paths have already collided, with full force I might add, two people who are by all accounts lonely, even if they won't admit it. I think it'd be good for them. You in?"

"Sounds cool."

Just then, Sigurd returned, having lost the brunette somewhere, less-than-gently reseating himself. "What sounds cool?"

* * *

**A/N: So…I'm an immigrant to America, and my first drink here was Pepsi (hooray for remembering useless facts!) and that's basically a reference to myself, pfft. My first meal was…cheeseburgers, I think, but I don't remember.**

**~Butter~**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Quick note: I use the name Basch for Switzerland because…it's a real name. I'm sure there are many explanation for this all over the internet.**

* * *

After Anneliese had caught up to Sigurd, asking him if he was okay after his sudden leaving, and only receiving an "I'm fine" in response, she had just sat silently beside him, until he got up and walked away again. Deciding not to push him when she had no idea what was going on, she remained seated. She had nowhere near enough experience with this strange young man to know what to do anyway. She momentarily glanced back to the two she had left behind and considered going back, until something caught her eye. A short, blond head had walked by a few meters away. After a double, then triple, take, she recognized. She knew him. He had matured quite a bit since whenever she had last seen him, but that face…that face was definitely the same. She was surprised he was still in the area. A thought floated into her head, or rather, a memory, that she had indeed thought about this particular person recently. What a coincidence… She might as well go say hello.

Standing to her feet, she called out as she hurried over. "Basch? Is that you?"

The young man turned his head around, obviously startled by the sudden calling of his name. As he recognized the brunette, his face wrinkled into a sort of confused frown. "Edelstein," he nodded, his voice barely raising, as he acknowledged the young woman.

It had been over five years since that incident, but this Basch still looked much like his sixteen-year-old self. A little angrier, a little more world-weary, but under the face of stone, he still looked like the same boy. When she reached him, she felt unsure whether to greet him with a handshake or with a hug, as she had used to, eventually deciding just to speak without any gesture. "It's been a while. How are you?"

"I guess I'm fine." He looked every bit as suspicious of her as he felt. "It's been so long, it makes me wonder…why did you say anything to me at all? What do you people want from me this time?"

Anneliese was taken aback by his bluntness. "Basch… I'm not after anything. I simply saw you across the way and said hello."

"And how many times before did you see me, look directly at me, then turn the other way?"

"Look, I'm sorry…"

"Ann…" he accidentally reverted to an old nickname, then corrected himself, "Ms. Edelstein, I'm sure you understand. I really must be going now…"

"Basch…" She reached out to place a hand on his arm as he began to turn away. "I've been wrong, we've all been wrong. Why can't we just get along now? Please?"

He gave her a look reading 'you know the answer to that question already', before adding in a quiet voice, "Okay, I give. Don't come crying to me when it becomes a mess again. I thought it was better this way."

"Let's keep in touch," she smiled slightly, scribbling a phone number and email address on a piece of paper and placing it firmly in his hand. "I'll expect to hear from you."

Basch looked over it with his cynical frown, folding the paper and placing it in his pocket, before he turned away and with a small wave, bid his goodbyes. After watching him restart his walk away from her, Anneliese looked around, unsure of what to do, eventually deciding just to sit on a nearby bench to gather her thoughts. One thing had most definitely changed in her recently, she was now recklessly open to situations she would have shunned before out of fear of losing her place. Of course Basch was suspicious. After what happened with him, and he came from a background where he understand her mentality very well, it had to be weird for this encounter to have happened. She didn't regret it though, not in the least bit.

After a few minutes, she was hit with the remembrance that she had left her group and that they probably already has their food and were waiting on her. As she stood up to rejoin them, a text message from Julia confirmed this. She quickly walked back, retaking her seat beside her white-haired cousin, surprised and yet not surprised in a way that Sigurd had returned as well. She would just go on like normal from now.

They had waited for her and so, as soon as she was seated, they began to eat. It was a quiet meal, the biggest talkers of the group – Julia and Mathias – were far too preoccupied with their food for conversation. As she looked up at Sigurd, he quickly averted his eyes away, trying to intensely concentrate his gaze on the buildings across the street. None of this escaped Mathias' keen eyes, smiling amusedly though his mouth was full, as he teasingly elbowed his younger cousin, provoking Sigurd to slap him on the back of his head, triggering a choking, laughing fit from Julia. Her laughter cracked Mathias up as well, causing Anneliese to query Sigurd with her eyes, to which he only responded with a shrug and small smirk, before returning his attention to nothing in particular.

The rest of the lunch was uneventful. Anneliese, usually decently social, kept finding her mind wandering, Sigurd purposefully dropped out of conversation unless directly asked a question, leaving the other two to do most of the talking and interacting. Eventually, the group broke in two, going back their own ways.

Julia slammed the door of her car shut behind herself, and stared grinningly at Anneliese, making no moves to start the engine.

Within moments, the brunette looked up at her. "And now what?"

"What do you think?"

"What do I think what?"

"What do you think about this whole thing now?"

"Explain yourself."

"Sigurd, woman. Can't you take a hint?"

"What about him?"

"For starters, you can tell what happened when you two walked off on us."

"Nothing, okay? Nothing." Anneliese was beginning to get frustrated. "I asked him what was wrong, and he said he was fine, then he walked off again."

Julia grinned again. "Weird one, ja? But I kinda like him, so I give you big sister blessing to do whatever you want with your relationship with him. Just don't elope in three weeks or something, because I've always wanted to give you the best fairytale wedding ever." She giggled and patted her cousin's shoulder. "I'm messing with you. Just know that I love you, Annie."

· · · — — — · · ·

As soon as they got back home again, Sigurd took off on his own solitary adventure, leaving Mathias home alone with Egil, who he found lying on the couch with his laptop. He sat down beside him, pushing the teen's thin body into the back of the furniture and ruffling his platinum hair. "Make space, Isbjerg."

Egil wordlessly unpinned himself and sat up, his eyes glued to whatever he was looking at. "Where'd you guys go?" he mumbled out the question.

"Noneya. In other news, I know who Sjur's girl is."

The younger's raised eyebrow was his only reaction. "Oh yeah? Do tell."

"She's some rich girl, basically."

Egil's eyes peeled from the screen and blankly stared at Mathias. "You're kidding… That doesn't even…make sense."

Mathias put his hands up and shrugged. "Hey, I'm not making this crap up. He acts real conflicted over it too, just saying."

"Okay then…"

· · · — — — · · ·

After he took off on his own, Sigurd wandered around the area until he could muster the nerve for his real mission. After about a half an hour, he headed north up the road, toward that university campus, finding his way easily through the maze of buildings, then floors, then halls, until he reached his destination. He'd been here enough to know he was right, but he still kept double-checking the number on the door. Then he had the sudden thought of being caught. He walked away, pondering a backup solution, then returned and knocked on the door. The short, blonde girl named Aino answered quickly, inviting him in.

As soon as he stepped inside, he nearly lost his nerve, the only keeping him from running was the idea that it'd just make him look stupid and insane. By just a glance, he knew that Anneliese was indeed there, and quietly talking on her phone. Eventually, he spoke up. "Kjerstin…" The girl he called to looked up at him silently, already aware that he was there. "Can I have five dollars? I want to buy my brother some sweets…and I'm broke."

The tall blonde smiled and nodded, reaching down to find her money and handing him the amount he requested. He thanked her quickly, then left.

Once outside the door, he reached into the bag he had been carrying all along, pulling out a wrapped canvass, labeled in a faked handwriting to hide his identity. He looked over it one more time, carefully examining for imperfections in the wrapping, reading it for mistakes, and smiled slightly when he skimmed over the name of the addressee. He had found the nickname cute. After putting the three by four by one inch gift down by the door, he walked off again, his mission completed.

There, taped to the wrapping, framed with hand-drawn curlicues, lay only a few words: "_To: Annie Edelstein; with some emotion the giver doesn't know_"

* * *

**A/N: jkghljfg I wanted this to be done yesterday, but I got lazy. I kinda hurried it, so please excuse any mistakes.  
**

**~Butter~  
**


	10. Chapter 10

_The whole world was at a complete standstill_  
_And I was in fetters at the mercy of the mob_  
_The silent warning became louder everyday_  
_And I kept pretending not to hear_

· · · — — — · · ·

Several miles from the shore, alone, Sigurd was leant over the side of the small boat, softly dropping shells into the water and watching them sink, watching the ripples of water. The sea was flat, with only a gentle breeze to keep the air from stagnancy. Now there was a good word to describe this life: stagnant. Stale, dry, boring…worthless. Better than it had been, but still undesirable. He went through the motions of life, could enjoy himself and find pleasure, but never found the reason.

_Give me a reason why not to adapt in this way  
Or judge me to be guilty of so many incurable sins_

Sometimes he daydreamed, mostly over his past since his future looked dull. At one point, he was quite proud of himself, and he still hung onto the feeling that he hadn't done anything wrong, all while knowing it was beyond wrong. All people can look back at their childish mistakes, and regret them, but do they have to wish to change them? The innocent blood on his hands haunted him, but given the chance to do it again, he wouldn't change a thing. In his mind, he had done all he could, given the life he had.

_· · · — — — · · ·  
_

_"…with no family left here, the child has been left in custody of the state. I dare suggest that he was also responsible for the stabbing death of the woman in charge of him, which took place on the same day and hereto has not been brought up."_

_Detached and unconcerned, the accused teen boy sat sucking on a pencil and looking around the courtroom stone-facedly. Until this point, he had offered nothing to anyone, except the identifying of himself as the culprit. Silently, stoically awaiting the public to form their own opinion and version of the story before he nailed them with his own accusation._

_"We have no other conclusion than that the suspect is disconnected from reality. He claims to have full knowledge of his crimes, yet shows no remorse and leaves no clues to a motive. A look into his history as a psychiatric patient gives no definite diagnosis, but implies a real problem. His refusal to cooperate with both investigators and doctors indicated to us that he knew what he was doing. I believe the question we all want answered is 'What happened to create this…freak of nature, this cruel monster at such a young age?' Mr. Thorvaldson, you remain silent, but all we want to know is why."_

_A soft sob from the boy drew attention from the entire room. Arms folded stubbornly, he made no attempt to hide his tears, the first sign of humanity he had shown in the trial._

_The judge was quick to speak to him. "Are you alright, Mr. Thorvaldson?"_

_His answer was simple and voice emotionless, defying the obvious emotion of his crying. "No."_

_"Is there something you would like to say?"_

_"No."_

_"Would you like to recess?"_

_"No."_

_He had only requested to follow his own trial in the media, giving no reason why. He wanted to watch as the public came to a conclusion. The consensus was almost unanimous: they didn't know what to think. An orphan with a possible, yet unknown, mental disorder, who opened fire on strangers, what were they to think? There were protests that the underprivileged didn't receive what they needed, that the state didn't do enough to prevent this tragedy, but no one had a clear answer and nothing could be decided until they knew._

_Months later, just as they were about to scrap the case and start over, the only one with the answers stood up, ready to speak for the first time. Giving him permission to do so was a no-brainer._

_"Men and women, everyone gathered here, and all of my countrymen," he started, surprisingly articulate and collected for a boy painted as unstable, "I'd ask for your attention, but I know I already have it. You want to know why I killed those people, the ones you loved, the ones who didn't deserve it. I want you to realize that your guilt is greater than mine. I am simple an avenger, I know how you feel. I also have questions. We say all people are equal, so why did you ignore us? If any one human is worthy of pity or help, why didn't we get it? If a poor girl is abused for no reason, why didn't you notice? Why did you let this happen to us, to my mother? Because you disregarded her life, even in her death, I disregard your lives. Look past what everyone has told you to find why everything is your fault. Even after you let my mother die, you ignored me and I will not be ignored. Now you all know me, now you all care, but it's too late and the blood has already been shed. No one had to die if you had held to your ideals."_

_Undeniably guilty, they said, completely knowledgeable of the impact of his crimes. Purposefully vengeful and disregarding to sacred lives._

· · · — — — · · ·

Somewhere in the flashback, Sigurd had slumped over, almost toppling into the water. No one had understood his cry for help. He was born into a bad place, and bloomed into farther worse. Only by chance did he have any life left.

_Escape, escape  
From this sorrowful fate  
You are not a flower of hell_

Somehow, he made his way back. Visibly shaken and on the brink of tears again, he found no one home and couldn't stand to be alone any longer. Throwing away any pride he thought he had, he had to go to someone he could trust. He took off in a run for Kjerstin, hoping with everything in him that she was somewhere he could find her. He noticed just enough to be momentarily relieved that she was alone in her room, and curled himself wordlessly beside her on her bed, breaking into a heartbroken cry with no explanation. All the blonde girl could do was sit with him, just her presence would be enough. This was far from the first time he had come to her like this. After long minutes wore on, she found herself with tears for him herself.

_Please don't cry, please listen to me  
Please don't be afraid, I won't do anything  
I'll cry with you, for you  
Please, don't be scared_

He didn't notice when the other came, his brothers. They were immediately perturbed, but didn't require an explanation, they understood. They always knew how engulfed he became with his memories, even his own self. Mathias sat beside him, quietly resting a hand on him reassuringly, while Egil raced to wrap his arms around him, whispering over and over, "Bror, ikke gråt."

_Even though those days  
May be imprisoned in darkness  
I'm still believing in you  
Even though it may be unforgivable._

· · · — — — · · ·

During this time, after her class for the day, Anneliese had settled into a solitary corner of the library, prepared now to research the other side of this drama. If she was going to attempt to help this person, she had to know what everyone else saw of him, so she could form an argument on why he deserved the compassion she had placed on him without troubling him anymore.

She scrolled through article after article, sorting through the repeats and ones she couldn't read the language of, leaving not much to work with. Sometimes, just the pictures said enough. The image predominantly used of him wasn't that unfamiliar, but eerily different. Other than his obvious aging since seven years prior, the younger Sigurd Thorvaldson that stared at her from the screen was wide and glassy eyed, expression hateful and angry. Images from courtrooms showed him constantly distracted, uninterested and still stubbornly holding onto that wrath. Indeed, not the same person he was today, but this was his image.

After nearly an hour of reading, rereading, and going between the lines, she was starting to give up. She had really wanted to find something from the boy himself, something to cement her theories. This would just have to be enough…until she found something. 'Trondheim killer confesses motive, leaving questions'. Luckily, a subtitled video it was. Focus, was the first thing she noticed. He had planned this too. Angry, unforgiving, remorseless and fully aware. This was definitely not the same person.

Today, this same man was stuck in his past, almost despairing without admitting, or maybe not realizing it. Lost, sorry, worn, tired… The pitiful young man she wanted to help, not the second side that he used to have. She soon found the later news, just a blurb, of his release. The Sigurd she saw then was much like the one she knew now. Bipolar, it said, just as he had told her.

_"I'm sorry for what I did. For years, I don't know who I've been, and I still don't know. If the doctor says it wasn't really me, then I suppose I have to accept that. I shouldn't have caused so much pain for you all, none of it helped me or my pain."_

_"While it is true that Mr. Thorvaldson had a mentally ill history and bipolar disorder was ruled out, the disorder can developed over time and he simply hadn't had the episodes at that previous time. At the times of the killings and of the trial, Mr. Thorvaldson was experiencing a manic episode, which combined with the trauma of his mother's previous suicide and the following events of his life, created within him a hatred of humanity and led to the tragedy. We all believed him to be a heartless killer, but once he faded from the public eye, he fell into a severe depression, to the point of attempting suicide. It was then that it became apparent that this child wasn't getting the care he wanted and needed, and have moved him back to psychiatric care until he can no longer be a danger to himself and the public. This entire case had been a heart rending situation for everyone, and we only wish to do right by all involved."_

Anneliese began to feel a small anger rise up within her. How could they blindly overlooked some of his story? They had to have known about his stepfather, so did they choose to push it aside? She was now frustrated and quit. Shoving her laptop into her bag, she picked it up and left in a huff.

As she approached her door, she could hear the muffled sound. The door ajar? Sobbing? Cautiously, she peered around the frame, unnoticed by the people inside. Sigurd, sitting on Kristin's bed, face buried in his little brother's chest, crying, with his two cousins by his side. She had no right to disturb this, it was his family and he was upset. She wanted to reach out to him as well, but it wasn't her place.

_The cicadas say it's too late  
But I still reach out to you  
Please believe in me  
I want to say you don't have to cry anymore_

* * *

**A/N: Songs:  
watch?v=XRgAzd3LfTU (Why, or Why Not)  
watch?v=OHePauaVAz8 (Naraku no Hana (Flower of Hell))  
watch?v=LSLJ7z8ufBI (Dear You [Cry])  
**

**Bror, ikke gråt = Brother, don't cry (Norwegian)  
**

**~Butter~  
**


	11. Chapter 11

'Perfect' could be a word to describe it, too perfect perhaps. It wasn't art, not artistic at all, at least according to Anneliese. Obviously, the painter had spent an enormous amount of time and effort as it almost looked like a picture, but far from a real talent. She looked again at the anonymous gift she had received, then shoved in back in a drawer. She couldn't understand it. She couldn't see who would have done it for her. Just a simple sky with clouds, over an empty, still expanse of water. Even the note that came with it, she couldn't decide if it was a cheeky joke or a genuinity. It was so…odd. This was far from the first time she had received a gift of the like, but every other one had been far more straight-forward, saying "I like you" or "I wish you'd pay attention to me" or some other admission, plenty had even been signed. This was unusual to say the least, no one she knew could recognize the handwriting, much less the cryptic wording. The more she thought on it the more she wished it was just a joke. But if it was a joke, it had to have been a very elaborate joke, and she couldn't see someone spending so much time on this painting if it were. The only reconciliation of her theory was that the giver wasn't the painter.

She really just wanted to forget about it. It wasn't worth her time or thoughts. She could ignore it for a while, but without fail, that stupid things kept coming back to her mind. She considered throwing it away, but the chance that it was a real gift prevented her.

She slowly opened the drawer again, almost as if sneaking a glance back at the painting. It was soulless, empty, void of anything she would have looked for, but maybe it really was something, it held an unspoken power over her. Maybe it wasn't even magical, but simply human curiosity, the 'need' to know something just because one knows one doesn't.

· · · — — — · · ·

A bespectacled and pig-tailed dark-blonde looked up from her book, her green eyes locking firmly with the blue ones that had calmly watched her without her notice for a short time. Rising to her feet, she put her hands on her hips, puckering her lips and furrowing her brow in obvious annoyance, her small stature obvious beside the man who disturbed her.

"You," she spoke, venom almost spitting through her British accent. "Just where have you been, Thorvaldson?"

Sigurd showed no reaction, arms folded. "You wouldn't care, Rose. All you care about is that I'm here." He picked up a cooler box and put it on the table between them, adding a few more emotionless words, "And I don't care how you feel about anything, I just want the money."

She huffed slightly, opening the box and taking out bags of clearly labeled fish to weigh, all while ignoring his statement in giving him a piece of her mind. "None of the others have had a lack, only you have been missing for over two weeks, so you can't tell me there's been nothing to catch. You'd better be thankful I'm even dealing with you after that."

He kept his calm, almost amused by her temper. "You don't need me to get by. If I died tomorrow, you'd go on without ever caring."

She shot a glare up at him. "I could refuse to pay you, you know? I need people who are consistent, that I can count on every week. You'd have nothing if I did that, wouldn't you?"

"Nothing and no one in life is consistent. You can't control your own destiny. Never count on anything, you'll just destroy yourself."

"I didn't ask for your philosophical insights!" she slammed her fists down on the table, face turning red in anger.

He leant down slightly to her level, mostly directing his eyes at the ground, with an occasional morose glance into her hardened expression, speaking even softer than usual. "You really know nothing. You don't know me. I would prefer to keep it like that. There's no contract between us stating I can't take my business elsewhere. Unless you actually want that, I'd suggest you let me be me without question. I require my personal space."

She huffed again, silently resuming her weights. Within minutes, she closed the lid of the box, moving the bags into her own freezer, then filled out and slid a check across the table to him. "Will you be back next week?" Her voice had softened during the silence.

"It depends on how I feel. I see my doctor today, I'll call you if I'm not up to it."

Her expression had also melted a little, showing signs of humanity behind her harsh exterior. "Sigurd," she spoke in a quiet voice, using his first name for the first time ever, "I want you to know that you're one of the best fishermen I have…no, _the best_. I haven't seen you work, but you consistently bring in some of the most every time, especially for a man who works alone. As you can see, I'd hate for you to take that to someone else."

A small smile crept onto his face for a short moment as he picked up his things to leave. "Thanks…I guess."

· · · — — — · · ·

"_yo edelstein wat up?_"

_Oh great, Elizabeth_, Anneliese thought as she picked up the phone. "_What is it?"_ she quickly typed back.

"_haha u always think i want sumthin. wat r u doin?_"

"_Nothing you'd be interested in._"

"_lol_" A few minutes of silence passed as Anneliese refused to answer, before another message popped up. "_gil told me basch zwinglis back in town. did u no?_"

Well, one should not exactly lie when asked a direct question. "_Yes, I know._"

"_thot so w/ ur history n all. did he call u or wat?_"

"_I ran into him coincidentally. He wouldn't call me, idiot._"

"_haha sur. so r u gonna visit him or w/e then?_"

"_You aren't even my friend, Elizabeth. Why would I tell you every mundane detail of my none-of-your-business life?_"

"_ill take that as a yes. p.s. u 2 wuld have been a cute couple if u hadnt ditched him back then. illl b surprised if he evr takes u back_"

· · · — — — · · ·

The building before Sigurd, though the same in looks as every other one around it, had a coldness to it. He shoved his half-curled fists into his pockets, he'd probably never get out of this cycle, the place had become almost a second home to him. It was a surprise he even still felt second thoughts about it. He looked back at Egil, and quietly asked, "Do you want to stay with me?"

The platinum blond raised his eyebrows in response. "Do you want me to?"

Sigurd shrugged and looked away.

"I'll stay with you."

It wasn't the first time Egil had been here with his brother, but he hadn't actually entered the building in almost two years. The two walked to the tinted glass door, reading in simple font, 'Anna Braginskaya, D.O.' among a few other names and the office hours. Once inside, they both began a visual examination of the small waiting room from a worn, old couch along one of the walls. Sigurd recognized many of the faces, even knew some of the names, though he knew none of them. After just over four years of frequent visits, one gets to figure out a lot of things just by paying attention.

There was one face that stood out as new. A tall man, who had come out from the receptionists' area and plopped himself down in a chair that appeared too small for him. Sigurd noted that the man looked similar to his own brother, besides that this was a large man and Egil was very thin and also quite a bit younger, they had similar hair colors, slightly freckled skin and the eery part, the same violet eyes. Sigurd knew from experience that the eye color wasn't natural, and he knew the difference between true violet and a blue that simply looked similar. He almost began to wonder if the man had been bullied or abused like Egil for looking different, and was that the reason he was at a psychiatry office. The man also sat with an uncanny smile, kicking his feet back and forth like a restless child. He got up again to talk to the woman running the appointments today – Sigurd knew she was Kateryna – then returned to sit in a different seat. He almost acted like he didn't belong there, not a patient, but there was no telling. Sigurd didn't notice he was staring until the tall man noticed him, cracked a grin and waved. Awkwardly, he only looked away.

He glanced over to Egil, who had taken out his laptop and was busying himself typing up a storm.

"Hva er det du gjør?" Sigurd leant over and whispered.

"School work," was his brother's nonchalant response.

"What's it about?"

"Subduction faults."

"…You lost me."

"I'm sure."

He was going to ask him to explain it, but was stopped by his name being called. Standing up, he patted the young man's near-white head. "Have fun, lillebror."

He walked down the same halls that hadn't changed in all this time, remembering the progression. When he first came here, they wouldn't let him walk free like this, for fear he'd lash out. It was over a year before he had shown enough stability to walk alone. He was bitter at that time too, and purposefully played games throughout all of his sessions, trying to throw off the new doctor. Why? It was fun. Fun, but it accomplished nothing, so he eventually had dropped the act.

The door he had been directed to was open and the room empty, just as usual. Empty, not only as in he was the only one there, but empty in that there was only two chairs there. No matter how stable or normal he seemed, they would never trust him here. Too much history, too little information on what he truly was thinking or what was really going on. Even he didn't know at times. He sat down, staring at a blank wall, for who knows how long, until she came. It was like this every time.

"Zdravstvujtye, Sigurd! How are you?"

The voice startled him, he had started to zone out and heard neither her footsteps nor the door close behind her.

"I said, 'How are you?'" she sang teasingly.

"I'm okay."

She sat down in her chair, smoothing her skirt out as she crossed her legs. "Okay as in okay, or okay as in 'Get out of here, I don't want to talk to you today'?"

"Okay as in okay."

"Ah," she rocked the leg balanced atop the other back and forth a little, head tilted sideways with a smile. "My little brother is visiting this month, he arrived yesterday."

Sigurd would never understand why this woman insisted on talking about her personal life. He had asked once, and her response was that it created a bond with her patients, as if they were really friends, and allowed her to help them more. "That's nice."

"How is your little brother doing?"

"Fine, he's working on something I don't understand again."

"Hmm…" The Russian woman started writing or doodling on a piece of paper after reading something in her notes. "Do you feel like Egil knows more than you?"

"Obviously, he does. He's a university student."

"Papers and grades and schooling don't measure the amount of knowledge you have, they just measure you against the society's norms. There's plenty you know that your brother doesn't, because you haven't walked the same lives. You're quite older than him too, there's that knowledge that he will never catch up to."

"What are you trying to tell me?"

She didn't look up as she spoke. "Don't compare yourself to anyone else. If there's one thing I've learned in my line of work, it's that you simply cannot compare one person to another, even if they share very similar characteristics. You are no better nor no worse than any other person."

"I'm bipolar, I don't have an inferiority complex." He raised his voice ever so slightly. This woman…she just got on his nerves with her 'psychiatry rambles', as he called them.

"I'm well aware of that, Sigurd. So tell me, what's been happening with you recently?"

* * *

**A/N: Guys, don't try to write four stories at once. You will feel bad about not updating all the other stories while trying to write for one. orz**

**Hva er det du gjør? - What are you doing? (Norwegian)**

**Zdravstvujtye - Hello (Russian)**

**I hope my next update will be faster.  
**

**~Butter~  
**


	12. Chapter 12

"Egil, are you getting up? Come on. It's late. Get up, lillebror. Egil, come on."

After several minutes, Egil gave up on covering his head with blankets and rolled onto his back. "What time is it?" he groggily croaked out, rubbing his eyes as the light hit them.

"Twenty past noon, aka get-your-lazy-butt-out-of-bed time."

"Mm…" He rolled over onto his stomach next, burying his face in the pillow. "Why'd you open the curtains, Sig?"

"I thought I'd burn you out of bed or something. I'm sorry." As he spoke, he walked over to shut the curtains.

Egil rolled back and sat up. "Okay, I'm up. Can I go back to bed now?"

Sigurd walked back and sat on the pillow, watching Egil from the corner of his eyes. "I'm lonely. Mats left hours ago with no word on when he'll be back."

Wordlessly, the younger stood up, making his way to the kitchen, shadowed by his brother. As he rummaged through he fridge and cabinets, Sigurd took a seat on the countertop. This was completely normal for them.

"When did Tias leave?" Egil was going through the daily routine of checking up on his older brother, something that had always made him feel like the lone adult babysitting the other two, a feeling he had never verbalized.

"Around 8, I think."

"What was he doing today? And when did you get up?"

"I was up before 6. He didn't say, he just kinda appeared, ate cereal and disappeared."

Egil turned around and took Sigurd's hand, dumping a handful of vitamins and drugs in it, and put a can of Coke down beside him. "Looks like you forgot something, and Tias forgot to remind you." Then he leaned against the counter across from Sigurd, chewing on a small piece of cake while watching him closely.

Sigurd stared back at him stubbornly for a few moments, before beginning to systematically go through the pills, keeping his gaze firmly set on his brother.

Egil continued to stare. "Don't look at me like that, it's not like I actually enjoy keeping track of you."

This had become a regular scenario. During earlier years, he had been paranoid of the medications, and back in Norway, resisted them with threats of violence to the point that his caretakers had given up on him. He only began to recover once they found a way to slip the drugs into his food without notice. When he came to his family at nineteen, he had begun again to slip backwards into psychosis because of the paranoia and a preference to his disorder. By trial and error over several months, they found he'd do anything to please and make up to his younger brother, including taking the despised medication. Though he'd still try to slip past them at times, by experience over several years found he had nothing to fear. However, normality felt out of place, by the time he was twenty-three, at least half of his life had been spent under the influence of mental disorder, and he could almost say that being able to think clearly and rationally was boring.

It had taken years as well for Egil to accept Sigurd back. During the dark years, the subject of his lost brother was almost taboo, the family almost denying his relation to them. In the chaos of boys' first household, no one had noticed the signs of Sigurd's deterioration, and for a young child like Egil, they were almost reluctant to explain to him what had happened, even as the details were blurred. From the time he was taken in my his aunt and uncle at age eight till he was fourteen, he could only wonder where his older brother had ended up and what went wrong. Raised in the abusive atmosphere, he learned early to shut himself up inside, and even as he grew older in a more normal home, he was too bothered and affected by his past to come out of that shell. He had always been afraid, fearing being hurt, fearing for his missing family, fearing the truth. They had told him ahead of time that Sigurd would be 'coming home' and tried to explain simply the complex story, but it only made him fear his brother as well.

It didn't take long though, for him to grow interested in the mystery Sigurd brought with him. The more the two grew to know each other again, the more Egil only felt indebted to him. All those prior years, even through his own emotional disaster, Sigurd had done everything he could to protect him, being separated from him had eaten away at his heart. He had still feared him well into his late teens, but stood by him quietly, defending at least to himself everything that happened.

· · · — — — · · ·

_"Are you ready for the test tomorrow? I'll come and help you study if you'd like."_

_Two teenagers sat on a bench outside the large and ornate school building, properly dress in fastidious uniforms. Yes, this was a very upper-crust private school, where most of the students belonged to the very wealthy families of the area, the only ones who could afford it. Was the high price of education worth it? Maybe, maybe not. The schooling itself wasn't that different from the public's, but here, most of these children had been forming the connections and networks that they would use to further the wealth, to get a head start on life and careers. Most of them, do notice. Just as in the adult world they were training for, there were standards to withhold, certain cliques one simply did not go near. Those who fell to the outside would lose the support of the inner circle the school really functioned as._

_This was were sixteen-year-old Anneliese Edelstein was growing from child to adult. As she sat there with a close friend, the atmosphere of the school was molding her mind, her personality and ideals. She had made many friends and acquaintances already in her second year, well prepared for her future, by the standards around her._

_"No…well, I think I'm fine in that regard. I just wanted to talk actually." The blond young man was going through a folder as he replied to her._

_"Is there something bothering you? Please don't hide anything from me, I'm your best friend."_

_"You heard about the shooting down south, right?" He drew out a photograph of a young, blond girl, twelve or thirteen in age, with big green eyes and a sweet smile, setting the picture out for viewing. "This is Lilith Vogel. She was the sole daughter of the shooter, and she suffers from multiple personality disorder. One side of her, by all accounts, is a sweet child and goes by Lili. Her second personality is frighteningly alike her father, who is bipolar and the murder of four people, including the child's mother." He stopped and watched Anneliese process the information. "You're probably thinking, 'Basch, why are you telling me this?' I asked my parents to adopt the child, God knows we have the money, and I don't want to see a poor girl like her suffer through foster homes and such. In other words, I'm going to have a little sister, and a psychotic one at that."_

_The next afternoon, just as the young brunette returned from school, her parents sat her down for a talk._

_"Annie, we have decided to cut all tied with the Zwinglis. I know you are very close to Sebastian, and I'm sorry that you'll lose that friend. However, the family has chosen to take actions we cannot approve of in deciding to support a child who has made criminal threats and is a danger to society…"_

_The little girl!_

_"I'm sure Sebastian and his parents only wanted to uphold the virtue of looking after the less fortunate. Though to us, it's not so much a matter of if, but when the child does something despicable, we don't want to be associated. The informed public would understand that there was nothing but good intentions, but the majority, with little to no common sense, would blame anyone involved. We must protect ourselves from the ignorant masses…"_

_Anneliese almost stopped processing their words. It was all so sudden, so…wrong. Something, or someone, was definitely wrong._

_"I'm very sorry that you have to lose a friend, dear, but that is how the world works."_

_· · · — — — · · ·  
_

_"I'm sorry, child…uh, you won't be going home tonight…" It was a young policeman that was sent for the boy, unsure of how to broach such a subject with an eight-year-old. "Egil, you'll have to come with me. Everything will be explained soon."_

_Wild-eyed, Egil stared at the man, who had shown up instead of his brother. Sigurd had been the one to take him home from school in the past few days, ever since their mother died. He refused to move, and even when the stranger had taken his hand, he pulled away. "You're not Sigurd! Where's Sigurd?"_

_"Sigurd…" The man knew the name, having been involved with this case since it unfolded that morning. "Sigurd cannot come today. Something happened."_

_Disbelieving, Egil scowled, refusing to talk or move._

_A small white lie was in order then. "Sigurd asked me to come and get you. He can't come right now."_

_"And what about my father? Where's he?"_

_The policeman's face blanked and he looked away. How does one tell a child this? Someone else would have to. "Your father…he definitely can't come. I'm sorry." Squatting down to eye level with the boy, he attempted a smile, holding out his hands. "Please come with me? I'm the only one who can help you right now."_

_Sighing, Egil took the stranger's hand. "Even if I can't go home, will you take me to see them?"_

_"I'll see if we can see Sigurd. Your brother is sick, very sick." Sick in the mentally broken down and in hysterics sense, but the man didn't know how to tell a child such. During the drive, he started to try to explain the situation. "Your mother is gone, right?"_

_"Mamma is dead, it means she'll never come back. She didn't want to leave, but the spirits of death stole her and she can't come back home."_

_"Ah-yes… Your father is dead." He was reluctant to be so straight-forward, but the child had been in his explanation of death._

_Egil kept staring out the window, appearingly unfazed. "He isn't a good person. I don't know why the spirits would want to take him. But Sigurd said that the spirits aren't good either, maybe it's just good that he'll never be back."_

_"Uh…sure. However, there's no one for you to go home with, since Sigurd's having problems and he's still too young himself…"_

_"What's wrong with Sigurd? He would be happy for my father to go."_

_"I… We don't really know. But there is something very wrong, he's sick in some way. Anyhow, do you know your uncle Erik and aunt Ingrid?"_

_"Yes…"_

_"We talked to them and they'll be here in two days, you'll go stay with them."_

* * *

**A/N: I do admit that I am jumping all over the show every single chapter I post. I do it on purpose. I am trying to confuse your emotions. I think.**

**I guess this was one of those chapters that I just fell in love with my writing. Even while I was writing and editing, I was all thinking to myself "look at me, I have such funny and witty dialogue and I use cool writing styles and I'm pretty awesome over here"…I don't know how to feel about this.**

**~Butter~  
**


	13. Chapter 13

A stroll, just to clear one's thoughts. As it was Sunday and rapidly approaching afternoon, one must wonder where the term 'Sunday afternoon stroll' began and what is so specifically stroll-worthy about Sunday afternoons.

At least to Anneliese Edelstein, one must.

She was going to me meeting someone at one o'clock. Someone she was eager to talk to. Someone she wanted to prove herself to. And someone she wasn't sure what to say to. The day before, she had briefly considered a trump card, but the thoughts were indeed brief, and besides, when speaking of human trumps, one must first consider their feelings. This particular trump…she wasn't sure how they would react. So be it, if the trump came into play or not.

The seagulls' calls were getting louder, announcing an approach to the waterfront. Ah, even the slightly salt scent was giving it away. By this time of year, the beach would probably be getting emptier and more peaceful, but it was no matter, as she didn't wish to go there. Not that there was anything wrong with beaches, just today she would prefer to watch the water over the sea wall. Maybe, subconsciously, testing fate over a not completely unrelated prospect.

The calm water flowed and splashed, providing a graceful backdrop to Anneliese's gathering of stressful thoughts. What would she say? What would she do? Why did it matter at all?

She could hear the occasional footsteps of people behind her, never bothering to turn around and look at them. After several minutes — she wasn't counting — there was one set of footsteps that, although very light, sounded strangely close. A few steps, then a pause, a few more steps, stopped again, as if the person was anxious. They walked a bit away, spun around and inched closer again. It was a good distraction to listen to this, but her thoughts began to float back to more serious matters, not noticing the steps anymore. Once more the steps got closer, but then moved along farther on the wall. She could her the person lean out over the wall, and she decided to just once look out of the corner of her eye.

An eery and familiar blue-eyed stare met with her quick glance, watching her keenly, yet from a distance. As soon as he realized she had looked over, he backed away, making a turn and started to walk the other way.

"Wait– …Sigurd?"

He turned back around after hearing his name called, backed away a few more steps with arms folded and an expressionless face. "How coincidental to see you here," he softly answered back.

Her trump card.

She stood up properly herself, staying in her place to talk to him, inevitably having to raise her voice to be heard. "Hello, how are you?"

After a few moments of watching her skeptically, he moved back to the wall and leaned against it, though still several feet from her. "I'm okay."

She smiled, if only to try to ease the tension of the unplanned meeting, unsure of what exactly to say. "And…how's your brother?"

"Mats and Egil ditched me for the day. They went to some museum or something with their girlfriends."

"You didn't go?"

"I don't want to. Too many people in a small, enclosed space and nowhere to hide."

"Ah…" She had nothing to say to him, besides the topic she wasn't sure if she really wanted to delve into. Well, either she said something or she risked him wandering off. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? "Sigurd, I'd like to ask you something odd, but it'll hopefully be beneficial for both of us."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow, looking back at her.

"I have a friend…well, he used to be my friend. Anyway, he and his family have reached out to help…people like you."

"What do you mean be people like me?" he quickly interjected, wringing his hands.

"I didn't want to say it bluntly, please forgive me, but the mentally ill regarded as threats to society. I can recall a girl with multiple personalities and a family history much like yours, for instance. But back to my point. A long while back, we had a falling out between our families, and I'd really like to have my friend back and prove I had nothing to do with the previous situation. Just by my accepting you for who you are would be enough to prove it, because the issue was over image and the family's willingness to help the so-called 'dirt of society'. Please excuse me if I'm speaking in terms that bring back unwanted memories. That family…they're the only ones I can really think of that I know of with the heart, courage and resources to help you." She stopped and looked him firmly and yet compassionately in the eyes. "I'm more than ready to sacrifice my standing with my parents because I disagree with the stand they took and most likely still hold to. I'm an adult now, I make my own choices, and I choose to be open and willing to help anyone I can, starting with Sigurd Thorvaldson."

He clicked his tongue, fidgeting uncomfortably. "I'm sorry…"

"No, it's o–" she started to sat before he spoke again.

"What exactly do you want me to do? What're you asking of me?"

"Well, I'm meeting him in a little more than an hour. I was going to ask you if you'd come with."

"And only ask me this close to the time," he stated dryly.

"I wasn't really sure if you'd want to… Really, it was only the coincidence that you were here that made me decide."

"Mmn…" he nodded.

"So would you? All I really want is your presence and to be able to say t hat you are bipolar. None of the rest of your past needs to be mentioned at all."

"Ah, okay. I…I have terrible social anxiety, so…if I, y'know…" His eyes darted back and forth, rubbing his hands together nervously. "I'm sorry."

"So it's a deal?"

"Sure."

· · · — — — · · ·

They arrived at the outdoor, seaside cafe a minute early, Anneliese having already let who she was meeting know that she would bring along someone. He was already there, patiently waiting. Anneliese walked straight up to him, with Sigurd uneasily trailing a step behind. He assumed an unnatural and slightly disquieting coolness to himself as a barrier.

"Hello Ann," a short young man with chin-length golden blond hair stepped forward.

Anneliese nodded and motioned slightly to the figure in her shadow. "This is my friend, Sigurd Thorvaldson. Sigurd, this is Basch Zwingli."

After formalities and pleasantries were exchanged and drinks ordered, Basch showed them to a table he had already picked out. A weighty and strangely fitting silence over cups of coffee followed. Basch's cup sat on the table untouched, his chin firmly rested in hand, throwing glances at the other two mixed of suspicion, curiosity and expectation. Anneliese was still unsure on what she should say and when, taking the occasional sip of her drink. Clutching to his coffee with both hands and seemingly in his own world, Sigurd sat slightly away from the table, staring at the birds, the water, the sky, anywhere but at the other people.

A clearing of his throat from the shorter blond broke the dead air, causing Anneliese to glance over at him. He raised an eyebrow, almost coercing her to begin conversation.

She quickly gathered a few thoughts together. "How's Lilith?"

A brief smiles graced Basch's stone face. "Very good actually. The past two years have been actually enjoyable to have her around. The psychiatrist doesn't agree — she'd rather state that she's the sole one who healed Lili — but I'm sure pulling her out of school and hiring a tutor for her has been the best thing so far."

Even though he wasn't apparently paying attention, Anneliese noted Sigurd's face change, turning his ears to them in genuine interest. She intended to bring him into the discussion soon, and it was an encouraging sign. "Is the psychiatric any good as well? I would suppose so or you'd change doctors."

"She is…but she's eccentric and it bothers me. She's what the court ordered for five years when we adopted Lili, so I suppose we could have changed this last year, but I don't see the need if it's working."

The brunette nodded. "If it isn't broken, don't fix it?"

"Precisely."

"And has there been anything on the family history of bipolar disorder?" She stealthily watched for a reaction from the Norwegian, while appearing to be entirely focused politely on her conversational partner. She had to suppress a reaction when his blue eyes widened in realization.

Basch's green eyes had been diverted to the cooling coffee. Picking up the cup and swirling the liquid around in it, his voice took a graver turn. "That's the hardest part. She requires different medications for the two different personas, the second one _is_ bipolar as well. And she can switch so easily… But it is getting better."

She decided now to take the plunge. "Sigurd here is bipolar."

A small, amused smirk appeared knowingly on Basch as he lifted his eyes to the man he had largely ignored to that point. "I see."

Sigurd was now warily staring at the shorter man. It was easy enough for someone in his position to accept him as simply bipolar, but that label was far from defining him. There were so many other factors that were being left out, so would this man pick up on it? Or would he be as understanding as Anneliese had if he told the full story.

Basch spoke pleasantly, but not attentively watching him, a comfort. "So Sigurd, where are you from?"

He answered with hesitation clearly in his voice. "Norway…"

"My sister — well, my adopted sister — she has dissociative identity disorder, or multiple personalities, and one of them is bipolar."

"Mmn…"

"She's ultra-rapid cycling. What's yours like?"

The man was showing interest without prying, something that made Sigurd a little more comfortable and allowed him to speak a little more freely. "It's evolved into mixed episodes. I've had several very severe swings, but I'm usually pretty stable now."

"Do you feel like you're getting good treatment for it?"

Sigurd openly scoffed. "It's far more complicated than that." He quietly ran a finger across his lips as if in deep thought before suddenly blurting out, "Is she considered a criminal threat?"

There were a few uncomfortably silent seconds before a response came. "Well…no… She was at the very beginning because of the similarities between her second persona and her biological, criminal father, but it was quickly reversed."

Sigurd buried his face in his hands, mumbling rapidly into his palms. "I'm an ex-convict."


	14. Chapter 14

"I don't like to tell people that," he shook his head. The silence that fell was overbearing to Sigurd, within a minute, he got up and walked away.

The other two remained confounded, watching him as he hurried out of sight.

"What was that all about?" Basch finally spoke.

Anneliese didn't have an answer. "He's…um…he…"

"It's a long story, isn't it?" He took on almost a deriding tone of voice. As Anneliese began to look away in shame, he started to explain himself. "Look, I can tell the man isn't right, and from my point of view, I'm tempted to pry into things that are probably none of my business. But what is my business to know is why you brought him along. I can tell you have an ulterior motive."

"I'm sorry, Basch, I really am. You probably know we cut you off because of Lilith…"

"Right, and?"

"I wanted to prove to you that it wasn't my decision. My parents don't know that Sigurd's my friend. I met him accidentally, and now knowing his history, I want to find a way to help him."

"Mhm…" he nodded, still skeptical. "I don't understand him at all."

"No one understands him, probably not even himself."

Basch smirked slightly. "You're being very cautious in what you say because you don't want to tell me something he wouldn't want me to know."

"And even all this time later, you know me too well."

"Well, you haven't changed. Forgive me for being brutally honest, but you're a bit of a coward, Ann, and a people pleaser. You'd do anything to win a person's approval, especially your parents'. Now you have a conflict of interests between them and the friend."

She silently stared at him in a mix of shock and embarrassment. He seemed to already have a better grasp of her situation than she had ever had.

"Your father isn't the be-all and end-all of the world. I know he made you all abandon us over Lili, but we're none the worse for it. If he wants to be arrogant and bigoted, I'd say you're justified in rebelling against him. This might be judgmental, but I can guess that your friend is considered a bigger threat to society than Lili ever was, so yes, I see your father cutting you off. Maybe it's time to grow up, stop looking for Daddy's approval and make your own choices."

"I…I've been contemplating that."

He nodded, then having said all he had wished to, changed the subject slightly. "So tell me about this…Sigurd friend. Frankly, I'm quite fascinated by him, and I know you know that I'm willing to step in."

She barely had begun to speak, when they very man himself drifted back into her vision, slowly making his way over. She quickly whispered, "He's coming back."

In a little over a minute, the Norwegian found his way back and ungracefully slumped back into a chair. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "Ignore me."

The silence returned again. Basch quickly picked up on his uneasiness this time and spoke to him before he was spooked. "Hey, would you like to meet my sister Lili? Talk to someone who can somewhat understand?"

Sigurd began to shake his head, then abruptly stopped, tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing in consideration. "…I…don't know."

"It's just an offer. If it suits you, tell Ann and she can get a hold of me."

Sigurd only nodded to show that he understood, leaving the other two to continue a discussion about whatever they so wished. After a while, they split up, Basch having to return to some or another business.

Anneliese stuck by Sigurd after they left the cafe. He was walking in small circles, scuffing the toes of his shows against the ground and kicking up dust, as she stayed off to the side, observing his curious behavior.

"That was a very diplomatic Basch," she eventually tried to begin a conversation. "Once you know him though, he has a very fiery personality, very opinionated. He's got a bit of a shell, but he really has a big heart."

He replied only with an inarticulate "mhm", casting a few mixed glances her way. Finally, he stopped and turned to her, crossing his arms. "Are you going to just follow me?"

She smiled nervously and apologetically. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No, I don't, but…your presence is kinda upsetting."

She was taken aback and quickly retreated. "I'm sorry, Sigurd. I–"

"Don't leave…"

Her expression immediately melted into one of befuddlement. "'Don't…leave'? But you said–"

"I, uh… Please? I'm sorry."

She had to hold back an awkward laugh, she didn't know how to react. All the while, he stared at her as if she had threatened him, eyes widened, then turned his face away as his features contorted into an expression she couldn't read. Confusion? Sadness? She couldn't tell. And it was just that quick before his expressions vanished as his face appeared to return to stoic stone.

"Hey, Sigurd?" she cautiously stepped toward him, her voice full of concern. Those empty blue eyes trained on her again, indicating he was listening. "This is probably a weird question, but… Do you understand yourself? Like…why you do things or think things…?"

He visibly pondered the question before answering. "I dunno, do you? Understand yourself, I mean."

"I'd say I do, in some way. I can explain my actions and thoughts anyway."

She could almost say he looked disappointed with her answer, his eyes dropping back to the pavement. "I'm not crazy," he insisted. "I don't know. I just…y'know, sometimes I don't know anything." He kicked a final pebble away and started to walk off.

Anneliese followed after him. "You don't have to be normal. Really, what is 'normal'? We all come from different lives, none of us are the same, and that's what makes us special."

"Then why do I need a label? Because I'm different, I now get to walk around with a stigma attached to me. Why is it that my behavior has to be treated?"

He wanted to suffer? Anneliese couldn't decipher what he meant by that. "But you have a disorder. Isn't disorder a synonym of chaos, confusion? You want that?"

He stopped and stared blankly at her. "So…a chaotic mind? Isn't my mind what makes me me? If we didn't have minds, we would be a species of robots who all acted the same. What if when you take away the symptoms of disorder, chaos, whatever you want to call it, does that not rob me of a little bit of myself?"

"I…can see that. You've thought this through, haven't you?"

"What else am I supposed to do with my time? I mean, depression sucks and all, but no one who knows me would call me an especially chipper person anyway. Would I still be me? Yet they're always, 'Take your drugs, Sjur,' 'Go to therapy, Sjur'…" He scoffed, shaking his head in frustration. "I'm not going to kill myself, that's pointless."

"But didn't you…once…uh, try?"

He snickered for a fleeting moment, immediately returning to the expressionless. "I had nothing, no family, no one to love me, no life… And besides, I was seventeen, a kid. I hardly knew what I've figured out by now."

They walked in silence for several minutes, Sigurd lost in a sort of reverie, his hands jammed awkwardly into the back pockets of his pants, eyes open, but appearing to be walking blindly, without direction.

"Hey, are you alright?" Anneliese eventually asked, gently touching his arm.

He was awoken from the trance-like state abruptly, twitching slightly. He quickly realized his surroundings again, sidestepping away from her. "So what was your upper-class, rich girl childhood like? Balls, formal dinner, I dunno…Victorian era-style prearranged marriage screenings?"

She genuinely laughed at his suggestions. "You think that in the twenty-first century, my parents will be deciding a suitor for me?"

He smiled briefly. "Why not?"

"Well, in high school, they had to approve of all of my dates first. It's hard for them to do so anymore, since I live quite a bit from them."

"How much do you talk to them still?"

"Every two or three weeks maybe? It depends."

"So what about the balls? Are those anything like what us common folk in fiction? Do you dance?"

She made a somewhat repulsed face. "Those…those really are no fun. Children hardly have a place at them anyway. Once I got older…I…" She sighed loudly. "I can't dance. I just…I can't. It's really stupid."

"Why?" Though his expression remained straight, there was a glint in his eyes…of curiosity? He was actually enjoying himself.

She would have said it was long story and changed the subject, but she picked up on the slight curious tone of voice. "It's not that I cant dance — I can — but…it's lifeless. Well, it's not dancing I have a problem with, it's specifically the waltz, which is pretty much _the_ dance."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure why, it just irks me. It has since I was younger. There's something about it that's so…monotonous or something."

He nodded and fell quiet again, continuing to nod as if in agreement with whatever his thoughts were. She noticed the corners of his mouth twitch a few times, though whether they were suppressed smiles or frowns, she couldn't say.

"I miss dancing." The words sort of fell out of his mouth, as if he didn't even think before speaking them, a small hint into his uncensored thoughts.

"You danced?"

"When I was younger. Mamma was a dancer instructor part of the time, it would have been sad if I didn't know how to. I dunno, I don't think I'd try again."

"Why not? Is it too hard because of losing her?"

"You'd think, but remembering it is kinda like keeping an heirloom." His hand went up to the cords around his neck, his fingers entwining with them. "It hurts, but you wouldn't give it away for the world. If I could dance again, it would be like Mamma was here again. But no, I'm much too afraid."

* * *

**A/N: Okay dear readers, you tell me: what sort of things would you be interested in knowing? E.g., the biological father Sigurd never knew, Anneliese's oft-hinted and inobvious clash with her background, unbiased views of Sigurd's step-father…really anything. I need things to fill in chapters because they seem to me to be getting smaller because I don't know what's interesting to readers. Please, please request stuff. My backstories are immense because this story is a huge pet of mine. Even if I can't write what you want to know into the story, I'll still tell you. I'm even considering a prequel if anyone finds that interesting. uwu**


	15. Chapter 15

Unwittingly, Anneliese had followed Sigurd home. She was finding more and more that every time he spoke, the more strange he seemed, and like Kristin had said before, the more she wondered how he really thought, felt, processed the world around him. Yet somehow his out-of-the-blue musings and seeming contradictions started to not be so unsettling, as if she was beginning to expect them.

"Are you going to stay or go back?"

He had seemed morose ever since talking about his mother, so she was inclined to stay in case he was lonely, unless of course, he did want to be left alone. "I'll stay, but if you don't want me around, just say so."

He shrugged, and she took it as either a shy 'I'd like you to stay' or a real indifference.

He remained silent as he walked up to and opened the unassuming door to the small square of space in the complex he called home. Anneliese followed him, also quiet, observing every little detail of how he acted.

It was sparsely lighted, just like every other time she had been here, only a lamp and the kitchen light were on. As she was noticing this, a young, dark-skinned face appeared from behind the wall that separated this space from the kitchen.

"It's Sigurd," the unknown girl called back to the kitchen, then yelled a greeting as she ducked back behind the wall. "Hi Sigurd!"

Another voice, a male one, called also. "Sjur, where's the flour?"

"Jeg vet ikke, jeg er ikke Mats," SIgurd responded. He then quietly informed Anneliese, "My brother and his girlfriend. I'm sorry, but I won't turn the lights on if he's home." He started toward the kitchen, directing his words at the other two again. "I thought you had gone with Mats and Aino?"

"We ditched them!" the girl responded.

"Okay then…" Sigurd found himself a corner of the room to back into, arms folded.

Nothing better to do, Anneliese had trailed and was watching from the archway. In good manners, she introduced herself as soon as she was noticed. "I'm Anneliese, a friend of Sigurd's."

"Egil, his half-brother."

"Michelle, Egil's girlfriend."

Anneliese noticed how the platinum blond kept a wary eye on her, even as Michelle began to climb up on the counter to search the cabinets, she guessed for that elusive flour that had been asked after. She smiled cordially when she caught his eye, but said nothing.

"Well, if you're on a wild goose hunt, then count me out," Sigurd suddenly said, before walking away.

Anneliese was about to go after him, but a question spoken right after he left held her back.

"He was with you, Anneliese?" It came from Egil.

"Yes," was her simple answer, not knowing what exactly he was wanting to know.

"He told me he didn't have plans for the day and would probably go fishing."

"Well, we ran into each other sort of coincidentally."

That seemed to be a good enough response for the younger man, who addressed Michelle next. "Don't break Tias' glasses, idiot."

"He probably hid it up here," was Michelle's muffled reasoning, head buried between shelves.

"He probably finished it and forgot. Don't destroy the whole place, I'll ask my aunt if we can have some."

Anneliese then interjected, "It's just flour, right? I'll buy you some."

The look Egil gave her was bewildered. "…You don't have to… It's just flour."

"Exactly, it's fine. Don't worry about it."

Michelle extracted herself from the cabinet and jumped down. "So we're going to buy some?"

Egil glanced between them. "…Okay then. Thanks, Anneliese, that's really nice of you. Can we go now?"

"Will Sigurd be okay if we leave him?" was Anneliese's first concern.

Egil smiled briefly. "Yeah, I'll just tell him we're going. He had that look that I can tell what he's probably wanting to do."

"Do you think he wants to be left alone?"

"Nah, it doesn't matter to him." Egil called out as the trio began to make their way to the door. "Sjur, we're gonna buy flour, okay? Your friend's coming too."

"Okay," was the faint response from somewhere.

Once they had left and were on their way, Egil asked, "Did you by any chance talk about our mother?"

The question startled her slightly. "Yes, briefly," she answered, wondering how he knew.

"He looks a certain way when he misses her. Did you know that he still writes letters to her?"

"No…" This was fascinating to her, she was getting little hints about him from possibly the person closest to him, or at least the one who understood him best.

"It's some sort of coping thing, I guess. He said one of the doctors in Norway suggested it to him. I think it helps, in a way. I mean, he's not going to let go anytime soon, so…"

_· · · — — — · · ·  
_

_The warmth would always stay by me  
I was a child who didn't suspect anything_

Lying stomach down on his bed with only a desk lam for lighting, Sigurd stared at a blank page in a half-filled journal, pen in his hand ready to write, but there were no words that came to his mind. His feelings were neither positive nor negative, but rather in a suspended state of neutral nostalgia. He flipped back to the front of the small book and started reading a random page. The words of his previous self seemed so weak, grasping at something that didn't exist. Maybe it was proof that something within him had indeed shifted. Now, even though he still yearned to go back, he could at least realize how lost he was. He slammed the book shut, dropping his head to the mattress dramatically.

_I swallow my tears and bite my lip  
So I can laugh that I've gotten stronger_

He couldn't explain to himself his conflicted emotions. He wanted to cry, and yet he couldn't find the means to do so, wrapped in a jumbled mess of opposite feelings. Picking himself back up a little, he flipped back to the first empty page and just started to write. Mamma would understand him better than he could. Funny how this worked, he knew there was absolutely no point in writing to a dead woman, but he knew somehow,_ he just knew it_, that she was getting his messages, sending him her comfort.

_Please tell me that the warmth of your hand isn't a lie  
Call my name in a gentle voice, don't leave me alone anymore_

For a while, he simply wrote whatever came to mind, questioning even his own theories with no seeming reason. From current events to unreasonable fears, past, present and future were included in his helter-skelter. It was full of questions, how's, where's, why's. In a way, he had to stop to realize how _childish_ this all was, and yet remember that it was an only comfort, an only outlet, and so entirely beneficial. He jumped from asking what he should do next to dredging up emotions from a haunting past.

_The points of the bones are too white  
They called me to the eternal darkness  
I can see it all clearly  
But it soon fades away_

In given moments, he could no longer recall the thought he had just seconds before. This was utter confusion, disorganization, seeds of a deep fear…of something unknown.

Fear… That was an appropriate description of how he lived. It was buried in his soul, constantly speaking to him, attacking him from outside sources, preying on him from imagined corners. Prodding him, moving him along a path he never intended for, controlling his very life. He thought he had long since given up, but he realized that if he had, he wouldn't be questioning it, wondering why he didn't seem to fit what they said, why nothing made sense. Somewhere within him was his real self, but he didn't know what it was and what was something external that had invaded and taken over.

_Sin exists because I'm giving up  
Punishment exists because I want things too much  
I'll leave everything behind  
And travel, keep traveling through the cycle_

_· · · — — — · · ·  
_

_Mamma, I don't understand. Maybe I've only just realized this, but I know nothing at all. It's almost like there's no reason for anything, or that everything is a puppet in a game, props in a global play. Am I one of those characters with no will of my own, no actions of my own doing? Or am I the only one who feels this way? It sounds unreal for a playwright to have so many billions of characters, but it feels about right to me. What kind of story do we live in? There doesn't seem to be a plot, thousands, no, more, of years have passed, and yet every character dies. Unless history is only a part of the story too and never happened. I'm not the center of the story, but somehow I can't see it beginning before me. How can a hypothesis that feels so exact seem to not make sense?_

_What am I supposed to do next? So far I've just gone day by day without making choices, letting the global playwright toss me around, but now it's like I have the pen to write my own next step. Did the playwright take compassion on me, a mere creation of his own? If you're really there watching me every day, then you already know about Annie's friend and his sister and what happened. I wish you could somehow send me your advice. I'm afraid. I am really afraid of taking my own steps. Like a baby, right? I want to hold your hand so that if I fall, you'll catch me. Why am I afraid? I can feel it hanging over me, berating me. You're stupid, Sigurd. Get over it. What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to help myself?_

_This is really childish, isn't it? Maybe I simply stopped maturing long ago. Maybe I don't even exist in this made-up future that I somehow see. Maybe everything is entirely unreal. What happened back then? Was there a fork in the road and I took the wrong path? How many wrong turns have I now made and how far am I from where I am supposed to be? I guess you made a few wrong turns too. You thought that you had made the right choices at the time, didn't you? I still can't tell which of my choices were wrong. But what if it was supposed to be like this, thus making the wrong choices the right ones? I can't even tell what I'm thinking anymore… Is that what's wrong with me? Even if it is, I don't know what it is._

_They just want to help, right? But I feel like I'm walking into a trap. At the same time, I'm tired of being afraid. Can't I just make one decision on my own for once? I'm tired of backing away out of pure fear. This might be my only chance. If I get hurt, I'll never be able to try again, that is, if I survive. I guess that I don't see myself as worth enough to protect anymore. The only two endings I see are death or genuine compassion and help. Either is okay, right? I can't see why anyone would want to care about me at all, but I've given up, so I'll take a gamble. I promise, I'll tell Annie that I'll talk to this other girl. Maybe everything will be just fine._

_In case this is the last time I ever write, Mamma, I love you._

* * *

**A/N: I will be writing a prequel for this, which will be a letter to Sigurd from his mother and will give the story of both his biological father and his step-father. uwu**

**Jeg vet ikke, jeg er ikke Mats - I don't know, I'm not Mats (Norwegian)**

** watch?v=zkXNtXqzefA (Dear You [Kind])**

** watch?v=oUt9c4P7ymk (Taishou A (Target A)) (the video has an incorrect translation of the title lol (actually, I think most of the English Higurashi fandom doesn't know the correct translation XD)**

**I finally have the entire story somewhat outlined, but that's not to say that I won't still be skipping from subject to subject. It just means that I'm mentally writing chapter 18 before I wrote this one… ¬u¬ Also, I'm back down to two main on-going stories again, so updates should pick up (especially right now, since I have no motivation to write Brennt Barn Forðast Eldinn XD).**

**~Butter~**


	16. Chapter 16

"Lili! Sigurd is here!" Basch called upstairs immediately after initial greetings.

Anneliese had come as well to the Zwinglis' home, interested to meet the girl and to catch up with the family. She was a little surprised that it was still the same house they had lived in before, with very little changes. And she had come with no expectations. Really, no one could predict what to expect when those two met.

"Lili will be down in a minute," came a young woman's voice in return.

Sigurd was visibly on-edge, and every attempt to make him comfortable only made him more jittery and nervous. To a family that had dealt with mental illness over the past several years, it was clear that they were dealing with someone who definitely needed help, and were rightfully compassionate to him. In a way, their calm behavior in face of him eased his most overt fears, but the nagging paranoia in the back of his mind was uneraseable.

Shortly, the young woman appeared at the top of the staircase. She smiled and waved when noticed, walking down with an air of ease. "Hello, Miss Anneliese, it's nice to meet you," she greeted with a formal handshake. She sat down in a chair opposite Sigurd and nodded, not wishing to make any moves that would make him any more uncomfortable. "And nice to meet you too, Sigurd." She folded her hands daintily in her lap. "I know that Basch set this up, and Mother and Father are both equally as happy and willing to help in any way possible. They will understand if you wish to speak privately, so don't feel bad if you want to ask them to leave. Also, you don't have to say anything at all if you don't wish to."

She seemed so normal, in sharp contrast to Sigurd's nerves. "Okay," was all he said, solely to communicate that he understood.

Her very formal introduction sounded much like a perfect postergirl's, as a whole, she _looked_ like a suitable public face for the mentally ill, attractive, polite and aesthetically pleasing in every way, with just enough of an oddity to show that there was something _wrong_ with her. "I am Lili Vogel, eighteen years old, and we have dissociative identity disorder." Her soft-spoken voice didn't match the first voice that came from upstairs, which was easy to write off as a maid or something. "What that means is that it's like multiple people living in one body, and the disorder is usually triggered by childhood trauma, in my case, abuse. I am Lili, and there is also Cecilia and Emma. Because we are different people, we have different issues. Cecilia is bipolar, which Basch said he told you, and Emma has something called dependent personality disorder."

Sigurd smiled briefly, as if amusing himself with a joke inside his mind before he spoke. "There's only one of me… I am bipolar, I was also abused as a child, I'm an orphan, and–" he abruptly stopped, glancing at the strangers out of the corner of his eyes, who were listening, albeit casually. After clearing his throat, he spit out the words, ready for the situation to rapidly change. "And I'm an ex-convict from Norway. A mania was blamed for what I did, I felt that I did the right thing at the time in taking revenge for what was wrong, though now I don't know what I was really doing." It was almost like he was dodging, like he felt forced to spill his life story and didn't want to.

"We won't press you for information that you don't wish to share, Sigurd." Lili's habit of speaking in plurals was unsettling at first, but he quickly accepted it. "Cecilia is the only one who remembers being abused, but she doesn't like to walk about it."

"…Do _you_, Lili, know what type of abuse it was?" He diverted his attention to the ceiling. "Likewise, anything you don't want to say, you don't have to."

It was almost amazing to Lili's family how easily he seemed to understand, or at least not be bothered by, the idea of multiple and separate personalities. They had also quickly picked up on his own quirks and eccentricities, and began to form their own opinion on who he was, non-judgmentally. He needed help, not stigmatization, just as when they had agreed to take Lili.

"Cecilia doesn't like to talk to me. I'm sorry, I don't remember any of it at all."

"Is it safe to assume Cecilia doesn't want to talk to me either?"

"I'm not sure, she might get curious. But if she feels like she wants to, she will. She's just shy."

"I can relate… I…I have social anxiety, just this right now is frightening, but I want to try for once."

"We understand, and it's fine."

Sigurd decided to look back at her, and once he did, he realized that he recognized her. Without seeming reason, he changed the subject. "Who's your psychiatrist?"

She wasn't bothered by it. "Dr. Braginskaya."

He nearly chuckled. "I knew it."

"You knew it?"

"I've seen you at her office."

"Oh…!" She grinned in realization. "That's actually quite funny."

Her shoulders slumped and she pulled one leg into her chair, sitting on it. When she started to talk again, her voice was a little more loud, and a lot more childish. "I like Dr. Braginskaya."

The change startled Sigurd, he blinked around the room, as if to see if anyone else had noticed it.

"Introduce yourself," was a quiet, gentle command from Basch.

"I'm Emma," the girl giggled.

Sigurd just nodded, assuming that he didn't have to introduce himself again.

"Do you go to Dr. Braginskaya?"

"Yeah." His next words had almost been swallowed, but in the spirit of being open in spite of himself, he was honest. "I don't like her, she irritates me."

"Basch said that someone has to be compatible with their doctor. Maybe you need a new one?"

"Maybe…" Then again, he mentally scolded himself, reminding himself not to hold himself back, at least in these small areas. "That…that actually sounds…refreshing, you know?"

The girl laughed again. Her youthful innocence almost became welcoming to Sigurd, he couldn't find a reason to be wary of this Emma. She suddenly stopped. He thought that maybe the persona would retreat again, having said all she wanted, but her next words were still in the young voice. "Cici thinks you're interesting."

"'Cici'?" he asked.

"Yeah, Cecilia," she clarified. "She doesn't want to talk to you, but she'll talk to me if you want to ask her things. She said that she was beat and told she was a bad person. Did that happen to you too?"

He folded his lips and froze up, only his eyes moving from person to person.

"It's fine if you want us to leave," Basch's mother was quick to say as his glance passed her.

He hummed to himself a little before answering. "…Anneliese and Basch can stay."

The two oldest were quick to clear out of the room. Basch had been on the edge of his seat and was genuinely surprised that he, as a near stranger, had been allowed the opportunity to hear something he obviously didn't want to say to just anyone.

"I was only hit once. But he – it was my step-father – he constantly told me to go die, that I was an evil child, and such."

The girl pouted. "Did they take you away from him? They took Lili and Cici away from him. Oh, and Cici wants to know what you do when you're sad. She says she doesn't know what to do and she has a lot of sad days."

"Mostly, I lie around and try to forget I exist. Sometimes I drug myself nearly unconscious, or sometimes I follow people around. I can't have antidepressants, and most of the time, because I have mixed episodes, I can't settle down either, so it's like feeling like dying at the same time as having all of the energy and alertness as hypomania. Antipsychotics make me feel…not right, like a stranger to myself, I guess. My brother forces me to take them anyway."

While he explained, she had shifted again, now sitting with her knees together and hands folded neatly, but slouched and kept her gaze on the floor. "I…I am Cecilia…" This one spoke neither softly nor youthfully, yet still very feminine, and she sounded worn down, using a monotone. This was the original voice from upstairs. "You didn't answer the little girl's question," she quickly informed him.

He was briefly confused, before remembering. "Oh, sorry. No… I don't want to talk about it. My answer'll be that I was put in a mental hospital after my step-father died."

Cecilia was processing what to say next, quietly, fidgety. "Um… I…I'm hypomanic right now. It's hard for me because of sharing Lili's body."

"Ah… Uh, you're rapid cycling, right?"

"_Ultra_ rapid cycling," she corrected. "That's every few days, or even every day. I'm bipolar II, I've never had a full-on manic episode."

"I was manic for…almost three years. It was horrible and no one could decide anything about me, and…I just made a mess out of life that I'll never get out of." He bit his lip, pulling his knees up to his chest. "And when I fell out of that, I was immediately into depression, and no one even noticed for almost a year, when I tried to kill myself."

Sigurd was too lost within himself to notice the shock growing on Basch's concerned face, who couldn't imagine how he could have gone that long without _someone_ feeling concerned, not knowing the circumstances of the young man's life at the time.

Cecilia was watching him with a look of pity, able to relate in a way, but at the same time, knowing she couldn't. "I…I think we're very lucky that Mother and Father and Basch noticed us. I feel really sorry for you right now. Were you in an orphanage or something at that time? You know, like you said you're an orphan…"

He chuckled, almost mockingly, though he didn't mean it that way. "I've never been in an orphanage. I was institutionalized when I was first manic, in prison when I got depressed." He stopped for a moment, becoming somber again. "They couldn't tell what was wrong with me. When the mania started, they wanted to say I was some sort of schizophrenic, but none of them could agree. By the time I was depressed, everyone hated me, so no one even cared anymore." He stopped, raising a hand with the pointer finger held up as if he had something of great importance to say. After a few moments, he dropped the arm back down to his knees, the hand finding a place over his mouth in a classic thinking pose. He looked up, directly at Basch, who was, needless to say, a little more than bewildered by now. "I've never admitted this voluntarily, but…" He stopped again, unsure. "…I'm trying, okay? I'm trying…" Narrowing his eyes, he looked around, anywhere but at a face. His tone of voice became flustered and panicked, as if he was forced to admit. "I'm a murderer, okay? That's what I did, I've killed seven people."

He started hyperventilating, face contorting into a pained grimace. After curling up for a moment, his feet fell back to the floor and he threw his head back into the chair, eyes welling up with tears.

"I'm a victim, it's not my fault," he repeated.

Beside himself, he couldn't see nor care to see how frightened he made the others, none of them knowing how to react, not even Anneliese, who called herself his friend. Cecilia vanished, leaving Lili in a scene she only vaguely remembered.

In a minute or so, having received a few strange looks from Basch and Lili, Anneliese got up and tensely walked to him, bending down to his eye level and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Please don't cry…" she whispered.

He swallowed hard, and in coming back to his senses, was startled to realize that he was _fine_ after the admission. No one had hurt him for it. "Thank you," he choked out. "Thanks for…not hating me…?" He gathered his thoughts enough to repeat an abridged version of his story. "My Mamma killed herself when I was thirteen, I had swore to kill my step-father if anything happened to her, so I did. I was already a messed up child, I spiraled out of control after that, and when I was fifteen, I went on a murder rampage, influenced by my mania. So that's me, it wasn't my fault."

There was silence… Then an "I'm sorry," was awkwardly blurted out by both Basch and Lili at nearly the same time.

"Tell your parents, if you want. It's only fair that you know what you're getting with me. Ask Anneliese if you want to know more." He stood up, wringing his hands. "I can't tell you how thankful I am. You'd never understand."

* * *

**A/N: uwu Oh, I'm reminding the lovely readers that I post notes about this story on my livejournal, including character development questionnaires, little things that are related to the story but not going to be written into it, and random musings in general. The link is on my profile, in the section of the "current fics" for the story.  
**


	17. Chapter 17

Holed up in the library, Anneliese was making an attempt at being a good student again. The events of the last two months or so had thrown a wrench in her life, and she didn't have a simple excuse as to why a once 'perfect student' wasn't at her previous level. There was really one looming distraction, and as a young woman who didn't even care for her studies, it was the perfect diversion. Not because she didn't otherwise care for Sigurd, but involving herself in his life was reason enough to drop her pretended interest in school.

However, she had too much vested in her education to fail now, and so she was playing catch up, cram studying. Before she had been ridiculed for putting school ahead of sociality, now she was just like the others, trying to fit too much into too little time.

Nose deep in a book, she was following the advice of the little Finnish girl she lived with: just try to remember the basics and the bold, important stuff. Funny, she'd even started to warm up to her roommates recently as well.

"Yo," came a familiar voice, as she felt the couch beside her sink under another's weight. "Studying, Edelstein?"

"Hello, Elizabeth," she calmly greeted, not bothering to look up.

"So did you hear that Trix is cheating on Tony with his cousin?"

"No…"

"Yeah, apparently her brother said that she purposefully dates other guys he doesn't like, and that kinda upset her, so she's now going out with this younger guy, who's had a crush on her since forever."

"Who is someone her brother actually approves of, I suppose?"

"Ha, who knows… And she doesn't have the heart to break it off with Tony, or she really still likes him, or something."

"Mmn…" Anneliese was hoping to cut off the conversation after feigning interest, hoping that the other young woman only waned to fill her in on the latest news and not wanting to quiz her.

"So what've you been up to? I heard you're not as up on studying and crud as you used to. Finally waking up to the world?"

Oh, delightful Elizabeth… "I've been busy with things. Connections, you know… Meeting some new people…"

"No new boyfriend yet? Surely your last one wasn't so bad that it soured you off men for life…"

"I've been too busy to bother." It was funny how she could play this game when in the right frame of mind. There wasn't really anything wrong with her lifelong rival, there were just particular moments — most of the time actually — that she was obnoxious, and that was mostly a personality clash.

"Surely there's been someone somewhat interesting…"

"Sure. Relationships are more complex than that though."

Elizabeth huffed, unable to tell if Anneliese was being sarcastic or not. "Just tell me one interesting thing, please…?"

"I received a gift from an anonymous possible admirer a few weeks ago…?"

Elizabeth clapped in excitement. "Really? Why didn't you tell me? That's so cute!"

"I actually had sort of forgotten about it."

"That's so cute, Annie!" she squealed again. "Did you try to figure out where it came from?"

"Yes… I turned up nothing. It's a dead end. Whoever it was was sharp enough to cover their tracks very well, which is why I'm sort of led to believe it's a prank."

"Maybe you could get it fingerprinted…"

"That's ridiculous."

"Well…?"

"No, I've got more important things to concern myself with."

Elizabeth visibly pouted. "No fun."

Anneliese refused to answer on the subject any more.

After a short moment's silence, Elizabeth questioned her again. "So what really has been keeping you busy?"

"A friend."

"Who?"

"You wouldn't know them."

"How do you know that?"

"I'm pretty sure. Ninety-nine percent sure."

"Are you doubting my social skills?"

"No, it has nothing to do with you. It's the friend who's a hermit."

"C'mon, tell me more…" she whined. "You're so mean to me."

Anneliese sighed. "It's my roommate's cousin. He's ill."

"Aw…" Elizabeth's cooing was mocking. "Is Annie into charity now?"

Anneliese only rolled her eyes.

"No, I didn't know you were even friends with your roommates…?"

"I am capable of maturing, you know."

"My little Annie is growing up!" She hugged the other girl, patting her hair, all in teasing.

"I'm not that much younger than you!"

· · · — — — · · ·

Five young people had gathered at one picnic table in a park. One of them, Sigurd, was lying half-dozing with his head in his brother Egil's lap, his legs rested over Mathias. The two girls, Kjerstin and Aino, were sitting on the opposite bench.

"You fine down there, Sig?" Aino laughed.

"He's killing me!" Mathias joked in response.

The Finn laughed again. "Hey, I realized this a few minutes ago, since all five of us are here… Too many Norwegians! Egil, go away and replace yourself with an Icelander."

It took a moment, but they all caught onto that she was referring to their nationalities. Egil was quick to inform her, "My father was an Icelander."

"Oh…close enough! Ha, this is great, guys."

"'Tis really a funny coincidence, isn't it?" Kjerstin added.

"So… A Swede, a Dane and a Norwegian-"

"You're not even qualified to tell those type of jokes!" Sigurd was quick to cut her off.

"You don't even know what I was going to say!" She ducked her head under the table momentarily to stick her tongue out at him.

"I think we vote to keep Finns out of our lives from now one," was his dry response.

She kicked in his direction, and he retaliated by pinching her leg.

A playfully friendly conversation continued from there above the table, as Sigurd kept quiet, as was usual for him, occupying his times with his phone. It was a long while before he suddenly sat up, dropping his arms on the table dramatically, as if he had something to say now. It worked, the talking stopped and the others looked at him expectantly.

"…I'm going back to school, guys."

There was a lack of response, the others unsure if this was his idea of a joke, or a spur-of-the-moment impulse, or something they should take seriously.

"I'm not kidding," he added gravely after a few stagnant moments.

"…Can I help you in any way?" Kjerstin quietly asked.

"I…don't know?"

"Do you mean that you just want to or that you've actually got plans going toward it?" Egil asked next.

"I…I know a girl who's got disorders, and her tutor specifically teaches the mentally ill. Her family is offering me the chance to finish my schooling in return for befriending the girl…" he trailed off uneasily.

"Wait…" Mathias was quick to fill in the silence. "You can make friends now? I mean, I don't mean that in a bad way– I, uh…"

"He seemed to make friends with Anneliese okay, didn't he?" Kjerstin reminded, in her own way, trying to ask him to explain what was going on within his mind.

"She, more or less, was persistent in knowing me…" Sigurd mumbled.

"But you like her enough, right?"

Getting flustered, he bashed his head into the table. "Look, I'm not talking about Anni-Anneliese."

"Right," Egil defended him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "This is about a very kind opportunity given to you to go back to school. Which we'd like to know more about."

He was silent for several moments, then lifted his head up again. "It's very complicated. This girl and I have a bit in common, and her brother told me I was the first person to make her feel comfortable." He was referring to Cecilia, rather than Lili or Emma, but explaining that wasn't something he especially wanted to do. "Anyway, they're kind people to begin with, from what I've seen and heard, and so…"

He was congratulated all around. This was something his family had never thought they'd see: their painfully fearful Sigurd actually taking chances and trying to help himself. A step toward adjusting and making a life for himself, instead of wallowing in his disastrous past.

· · · — — — · · ·

The three young men headed home, after a while. On their walk, Sigurd had explained a little more to them how he had a connection with the Zwinglis to begin with. He got frustrated again quickly and gave up, refusing to answer with any more than a few words. Egil and Mathias too gave up on trying to get any more information out of him. That was just the way he was, they didn't think they could change him. His family even had a theory among themselves that there was something about him that was either unknown or not being said that would explain him so much more.

Sigurd stopped abruptly, his eyes for some reason drawn to an unassuming building beside a strip mall. He stared at it motionlessly for several minutes, before taking Egil by the wrist and walking toward the building.

Egil quickly figured out that it was a pet shelter. Now this had to have been a spontaneous decision on Sigurd's part. He had never shown an interest in pets, and one had to wonder what exactly he would do with one if he had just decided without consideration to adopt one. Egil looked back to see Mathias still standing where they had left him, somewhat dumbfounded.

When Sigurd opened the door and entered, he entirely ignored the people there, other than tensing up when asked if he needed help. Still dragging his brother along with him, he headed straight to a wall of cats in cages, only then dropping Egil's wrist. Like a kid in a candy shop, a smile lit up his face as he watched the cats. He hung his long fingers through the bars, reaching to touch the ones bold enough to approach him. There was one, a ginger with longish hair and white paws, in a cage near the floor, curled up, watching him from the back of its crate.

He crouched down to look at it. He didn't say anything or make any moves and the cat didn't get up to greet him, as if they were telepathically communicating. It was small and thin, still a kitten.

He stood up and turned to Egil, his face lost the expression it had just seconds before. "I want that one," he plainly stated, pointing to the ginger kitten.

"Um, but…" Egil didn't know what to say.

Sigurd curled his bottom lip and narrowed his eyes, an almost threatening pout.

"Okay…"

"Go ask if I can have it or whatever people do?"

Egil didn't want to question him, though he didn't know what Sigurd would do with a cat. He had seen the fleeting happiness and hated to deny his brother just that simple thing. Throughout the adoption process, Sigurd acted much like a shy child in an adult's body, his apparently younger brother coming off as more mature, and it drew the strange looks one might imagine. But Sigurd really was happy, just that simply, holding the kitten who he assumed to be sick or weak, wearing a half-supressed grin when it curled under his chin.

And one can easily imagine how very confused Mathias had become once his cousins returned with a cat.

"Her name is Eleonora," were Sigurd's first words, protectively carrying the kitten in his arms on the rest of the walk home. He wouldn't let either of the other two touch her, nuzzling against her head and giving her the occasional kiss. The kitten herself wasn't nervous and seemed to immediately accept him. Like somehow, they just _got_ each other.

* * *

**A/N: Uh…correctly name the characters in Elizabeth's gossip to win free internet chocolate?  
**

**And Eleonora isn't based on any of the nekotalia cats. She's based on a cat I had that died this summer…  
**

**I think that's all I had to say about this chapter?  
**

**~Butter~  
**


	18. Chapter 18

"_Hey, how are you?_"

"_How am I?_"

"_A simple question…_"

"_An obnoxious one, but whatever_"

Anneliese frowned at the response on her phone's screen. But then again, there was no real telling with Sigurd, trial and error would have to reveal what he did and didn't like, and even then, he might have just been irritable at any particular moment. She paused for a while to think of something tap back as a reply. "_Kristin said you got a cat…_"

"_Yes_"

"_Do you like it?_"

"_Eleonora is the only I one I connect with. She doesn't understand me and I don't understand her, but…I don't know_"

"_That's nice. Her name is Eleonora?_"

"_No, I just changed subjects like a madman. Of course, genius_"

"_Are you really alright?_"

"_I really hate that question, okay, seriously. I'm mentally ill, does that sound alright to you? I can't remember what alright even feels like_"

"_…I'm sorry. You just seem somewhat on-edge, and I'm concerned._"

"_Nerves_"

"_What?_"

"_Nerves, as in I'm nervous. Well, more nervous than usual_"

"_What's up?_"

"_Three days without a minute of sleep, successfully avoiding my drugs, a woman who insists on asking questions I don't want to answer_"

"_I'm sorry._"

"_It's not you. You can ask whatever you want, I don't care_"

"_Okay. Why aren't you taking the medications? Don't they help?_"

"_Do you think I'm better on them or something?_"

"_Well…_"

"_It's an honest question, I'm not being sarcastic_"

"_I think it'd be better if you take them._"

"_I'll remember that. And the final reason I'm shook up is that I'm seeing a new psychiatrist today. Thank you_"

"_Thank you? I'm confused?_"

"_Just accept my gratitude. It doesn't have to make sense_"

"_Oh, good luck the new doctor then._"

After he didn't reply for a while, she sent another text.

"_Can I ask a strange question?_"

"_I already said you can_"

"_Why are your English skills so good? For a foreigner, at least._"

"_One, I lived in Ireland as a kid. Two, I haven't had much else better to do than study it._"

"_Ireland? When?_"

"_I didn't tell you that Mamma left Norway when I was small? She met and married Sverre there_"

"_Oh, right. I'm sorry._"

· · · — — — · · ·

Hands clasped behind his back, eyes directed to the generic flooring, Sigurd was standing alone in a white-walled hallway. The reassurances that he could move onto another doctor if he didn't like this one either didn't help his nerves as it had intended to. It wasn't just the usual uncertainty of stepping into a new situation, or even the complications of his shyness, but a real fear, yet again, that he was getting into something very wrong. He hated that little nagging discouragement that followed him everywhere for over a decade and affected every choice he made, but…he couldn't change it.

A soft clearing of a throat startled away his growingly dismal thoughts, he hadn't noticed the footsteps approach him. He quickly looked up to a man just a little taller and bigger than himself. He was dressed casually, for a medical professional at least, and had a thick file under his arm. Kind green eyed were calmly trained on him, with a gentle smile gracing his face, inconspicuously doing the same visual inspection of Sigurd that Sigurd himself was doing of him. After a short moment, he lifted a hand and held it out slightly, his moves slow.

"Dr. Heracles Carpus. You're Mr. Sigurd Thorvaldson, I presume. Good day."

"Mmn," Sigurd hesitated before accepting the hand to shake. "Yes, hello, Dr. Carpus."

He turned slightly to lead the way, maintaining eye contact. "This way," he paused, trying to deduce what the young man would prefer to be called, "Sigurd."

At first glance, the room was warmer than the one he had always been seen at in the previous place, and not as empty. He could tell they were still playing it safe, they had no experience with him obviously, with what his history had to look like on paper, it was only reasonable. Two chairs faced each other, one noticeably more comfortable than the other, which was given to the patient. Silence fell until a certain level of comfort was established.

"I must say, Sigurd, in some ways, you're perfectly what I expected, but in other ways, far from it, if you know what I mean. Dr. Braginskaya has perfectly documented you in the recent years, but failed to capture you, your being, essence…" He waved the words away. "Some have said I approach my job from a philosophical standpoint, and I suppose, I almost feel I must capture my patients in a way that showcases their…soul, for lack of a better word. You're afraid right now, but do know that fear is perfectly normal and is a good thing."

Sigurd crossed his arms, unimpressed with the short monologue. "A good thing?"

"Fear is a protection. You fear fire, for instance, because your mind associates it with the idea of burning, thus protecting you from injury. You fear a new situation such as this one because you don't want to be told what you don't want to hear. People prefer to ignore what they don't want to face."

"You _don't_ understand me. I…I'm afraid of my own cousin. I've known him since I was a child." Something about the man's seeming aloofness combined with a kind demeanor was like opening a door to Sigurd's thoughts, so that he allowed them to spill out instead of skirting about speaking of them.

"Right, social phobia is mentioned in the reports. I wasn't going to ask so soon… The cause of it was noted as unclear. On one hand, this is your family in question, however you were separated from them during years in which personality is still forming and mental illnesses tend to develop. You lost the one person you could trust and had no one else, so you may have just never had the opportunity to develop social skills or there may be an actual issue." He looked up from the papers to catch the young man's cold, staring eyes. "Please stop me if I mention something you're not ready to discuss. Right now, only you know why you're afraid. Do you know…consciously?"

Leaning back, Sigurd rested hands on his closed-eyed face, pondering an answer. He could say whatever he wanted…so… "I…feel like the world is against me, everyone hates me, they all want revenge on me. I know it can't be true, but…it is. I don't know why."

"Paranoia," Dr. Carpus was quick to verbally note, slightly amused. "Huh, I was leaning more toward inadequacy, but you say paranoia."

"So what does that mean?"

The question went unanswered. "What do you know about family history? Mother, father, grandparents?"

"…It depends."

The brunet man re-scanned some of the papers in his lap. "Any form of schizophrenia, specifically?"

"I don't know a thing. Why?" A slight trace of panic ran through his voice.

"You're not schizophrenic. It's just…a few curious, and otherwise unexplained, things… Believe me, I studied your records, you're a very complex and fascinating individual, and yes, you are definitely bipolar. Don't doubt what we've worked out thus far. I think there's just…more somewhere, that if was nailed down, would help a lot, in understanding you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your odd behaviors, views on the world, even social phobia and paranoia, are typical of the schizophrenic genotype. It's genetic, eccentric little things found in individuals with a family history of schizophrenia. That's why I asked. It says nothing of whether you yourself have any disconnect from reality. You can be otherwise perfectly sane, and still…"

"What are you getting at?"

"I'm not going to put this into your records. I'm probably not the first to see it either, but the subject is controversial, even more so to say anything officially when you're dealing with manic-depression as well. I just wanted you to know that there is that possibility, even if it's just between me and you."

Sigurd's lips twitched upward momentarily, and his grip on the chair's arms loosened. "You just want me to know that it's okay to… have those things, it's not my fault?"

"Sure. You don't have to question yourself. Knowing is half the battle anyway."

Sigurd nodded slowly, allowing himself to relax again and bring his legs up to cross in the chair.

"Otherwise, what has been happening with you recently?"

At first, he was caught off-guard by the words, but quickly recovered to find an answer. "Nothing important or interesting," he mumbled.

"Really?"

"Really. I got a cat, is that interesting?"

"Fascinating."

"Fascinating?" His repetition was dull in tone, with an unimpressed blink.

"Unprofessional opinion, on my part. However it has been said that people who have cats are either strongly independent or wish to be so."

"Really?" Sigurd's voice was even more impassive, with a small hint of a cringe in his face. "Why…are you people so…_weird_? Why?"

Dr. Carpus held his gaze for a moment, expression grave. "…I speak from personal experience, Sigurd." He followed the statement with an affecting gulp. "Why do you think I was interested in psychiatry myself to begin with?"

Distracted by posters on the wall, the blond had missed and not picked up on the cues he was being sent. His response was casual. "I don't know, you're weird?"

A brief, amused smile crossed the doctor's face as he recognized Sigurd's unfitting reaction, before returning to his somber grimace. He was overplaying himself to see if the young man would return the socially correct emotions, all testing his own theory. "You're right, maybe I am." He cleared his throat. "I've suffered too. Suffering isn't uncommon."

An eccentric mix of a sneer and grin formed on Sigurd's face as he turned his head back to the other man, who smiled briefly, knowing what the expression was.

"Helping others, studying psychiatry, it's my outlet. I've completed medical school, been licensed, successfully helped people recover from dangerous psychoses…and so people don't see me for who I am behind my title. Maybe anonymity is good for people. Walking on the street, I'd bet nine out of ten people would think you're any normal young man. Ever considered that?"

* * *

"Aunt Ingrid…" She was dozed off, so Sigurd leant over to touch her arm. "Hey…"

She opened her eyes to see her nephew with a genuine, yet slight smile. "Sorry. You seem like it went well?"

He glanced back momentarily, his face falling after being pointed out. "Yeh… He's human, it seems."

Oddities like that sentence weren't unusual by now to the woman. She stood up to leave. He walked ahead of her to the plain door, leaning his back against it as she walked out and another woman with an unruly child walked in. Then, abruptly, he wandered down the sidewalk on his own, just out of earshot as an elderly woman approached his aunt.

"Is that your son?"

"My nephew."

"He seems so quiet and well-mannered, very nice… I can't begin to imagine why a good boy like that would be taken to a shrink."

Ingrid was taken aback by the woman, but faked a smile. "I'm sure he'd appreciate your opinion."

* * *

**A/N: Uhhh… I'm battling severe distraction. So I've turned into a very slow writer who really doesn't want to write anything. orz**

**I had a tossup whether to use Carpus or Karpouzi (that's how it's really spelled, folks!) for Greece's surname ._. If it wasn't human!AU and I didn't have to have an actual name, I would have gone with Karpouzi. Random semi-unrelated song that you guys should all know, simply because it's a Greek song about cats: watch?v=tRztupg0kTU (I'm embarrassed with myself for forgetting some of the lyrics '.')**

**Aaaaaaaaa…I think I sufficiently expressed my frustration with certain things in my research for the story in this chapter. ouo Good. (The frustration is over schizotypal personality disorder and schizoaffective disorder, NEITHER OF WHICH I FEEL LIKE WRITING A TEXT WALL EXPLANATION OVER. Ahaha)  
**

**I really wish I could get my writing act back together XD**

**~Butter~**


	19. Chapter 19

_"Why are you so worthless?"_

_"You shouldn't have been born."_

_"Why do you even exist?"_

_"What is wrong with you?"_

_"You'll always be hated."_

_"Everything is your fault."_

_"No one will ever love you."_

_"Why don't you just die?"_

Sigurd honestly wished he had been beaten instead. Bodies healed, he thought, minds don't. Pain dissipates over time, anguish doesn't.

_"Where are you going, devil? I didn't say you could go anywhere."_

_"No matter what you do or what you say, I will find out."_

_"I know everything. I know what you're thinking."_

_"You can't escape me."_

That man knew, he had to. He could have hurt the children, but he instead tore them down mentally, especially Sigurd.

It was that anguish that he couldn't escape. He could look over and forget the pains of everything but the cutting words, the spite and hate, intended to tear him apart. Before, he could avoid loneliness while being alone because the past words told him he was unlovable, though he hated to believe them. Now he was lonely most of the time, because the people who could tell him that he was worth something weren't always there. His emotions had been awoken and he couldn't anymore go coldly through a dull life without feeling a thing.

The wind was squalling, pelting rain drops sharply into him. He didn't have to be out in this, but he was. Almost as if he was forcing himself into discomfort, enduring something he didn't have to, but if so, it was subconsciously. He didn't want to question why he wasn't at home, there was no one else there either. The dreary weather had beckoned him. Now he would just wander aimlessly along the shoreline, through empty beaches, up and down piers, all while glaring pointlessly into a grey nothingness, so grey that one couldn't tell where the sea and sky met in an indefinite horizon.

It had only taken one coincidence to plunge him down into this gloom, from plain loneliness to torment. A vexed man calling for his children to come in from the rain, right as Sigurd wandered down the waterfront street. Just the raised and ired voice had set him off. _I had lived in a large, white house with that man before…_ He couldn't help his mind running, anxiety quickening his breaths and heart rate. _Right on the water too._ For a moment, he stared in the general direction of the man's voice, biting his lip to keep back his emotion. _Run, he'll find me!_

In a split second, he dashed down the street, coughing as his breath shook. Very quickly, he realized he hadn't needed to escape like that. And so he just kept walking, trying to calm himself unsuccessfully, all while his mind played back to him every horrible thing he could recall.

He tightened his elbows to his side, feeling the cold in every bone, hands shoved into pockets. He wasn't going anywhere, just aimlessly trying to avoid himself. Except that no one can really do that.

The rain died down, leaving only the frigid breezes. This was really childish, wasn't it? In fact, it had been a habit formed in his childhood. To avoid melancholy of any kind, he had simply slipped out of the house and ambled alone along the shore. Now it was no different, excepting that the shore itself was different and a grown man stumbling along in place of the small child.

Also, he felt severely lonely. When he was younger, he had been able to find some enjoyment out of the solitary activity, but he had just now realized that that wasn't the case anymore. He was still swallowing a mixed grief, refusing himself the release of emotion. It was getting to be too much. He could feel his whole body weakening, his legs threatening to give out. His face quivered, but he wouldn't acknowledge the feelings. Soon, he fell to his knees, staring harshly at the ground in front of him, in a semi-trance in which one forgets everything but the raw pain. He lost the composure he had forced upon himself, and tears ran soundlessly down his grimacing face. He forgot the world around him, everything else that had been on his mind, the passing time…

"Sigurd! Sigurd Thorvaldson?"

He blinked as his own name finally registered, the first part of the world to return to him in he didn't know how long. He didn't know where it came from or who it was…

"Sigurd" Are you alright?"

That English-accented voice was too distinctive for him not to recognize once he heard it again. Sure enough, as he looked up, he was looking at the pigtailed, bespectacled woman named Rose Kirkland. She looked bewildered…and somewhat concerned. Of course. There he was, kind of collapsed on a sidewalk, with red eyes and wet cheeks, and now staring emptily at her.

"Can you stand up? Should I call someone?"

He somehow found his voice to answer her. "I'm okay." With that, he pulled himself back to his feet and stood looking away from her with arms crossed.

"You're not." Rose imitated his posture, with a raised eyebrow and the tone of a mother.

"You wouldn't know."

"Look, I know I might as well be stranger to you and that you don't trust me, but you can't lie that easily to me."

Sigurd shifted his gaze to her, coldly and sullenly.

"You hid whatever it is well, I would have never known until you mentioned your doctor, but I've noticed your being off ever since. You're not well at all, and though I may seem like a cold-hearted woman, I care. I just want to know so that I have something to understand you by."

"It's an established fact that people just don't, _can't_ understand me. Wasn't it the same day that I said it'd be better if you didn't know me?" His words sounded as if filled with spite, though he had intended no emotion whatsoever.

"I know you probably have family and friends who are there for you, but I really want to help." Her voice had become hurried.

He started to turn away, then stopped and spoke directly to her, almost accusingly. "I'm sick, there's no helping me. Ever." Immediately, he took off in a quick walk

"Please! What is it? Are you terminally ill? I want to help" Sig-" She realized that calling after him was only going to drive him away faster.

· · · — — — · · ·

"…and so, I decided that it wasn't a good idea and gave up."

Four young adults were gather at the large Zwingli home. Sigurd had brought his new kitten, Eleonora, upon request by Emma, though he was currently sitting quietly on the floor with the cat in his lap and Lili, as Emma had decided to call herself a 'nap time' and retreated. Cecilia hadn't made an appearance, despite her spoken fondness for conversing with Sigurd, and so the two had left Lili, their host, with someone she couldn't connect well with, leaving them in silence. Anneliese had tagged along and was exchanging stories with Basch as a means of catching up over the years they had been separated.

"You know, I've wondered…" Basch took on a serious tone of voice, even more than he was accustomed to using, "anyone who can reach adulthood without becoming a cynic must not have lived properly. You have to see the bad in people in order to realize that you can't expect anything from anyone in life, you have to stop living in a sugar-coated world."

"I don't follow."

"For example, I don't resent your family. Up until then, I had lived in a bubble, and the whole situation made me look twice. The only way I can expect anything to happen is to do it myself. You're figuring this out too, aren't you?"

"I… Sorry, I'm no good with metaphors."

"You're starting to see the real world, right? And it's because you met Sigurd. I'm willing to bet, and I'm sure I know extremely little about him, that he didn't get the luxury of living in the ideal world us two grew up in, or if he did, that was broken very quickly. Cynics don't trust others, we make it happen on our own. We've learned the hard way that people are generally selfish and would rather lie to themselves that make themselves uncomfortable. If you don't fit in, society will reject you."

Anneliese had naturally turned her glance to the Norwegian, watching his closed body language while simultaneously recalling him saying the same things that Basch was saying, in his own words. When she spoke, she tried to get into what she imagined his thoughts were like. "And you'd rather be alone than play pretend?"

"We aren't alone. Besides, if you can get over rejection, you'll find that the ones who rejected you are generally jerks. There's a lot of people that are accepting and willing to let you be yourself. It's more that the jerks are a lot louder about how horrible you are than the majority are in acceptance."

"Why are you telling me this?" She looked back to Basch's somber face.

"It's time for you to wake up, Ann. Don't straddle the line between acceptance and fear of rejection, it makes you appear to be a jerk, even though you aren't. You know, it's probably a miracle that you met him, or else you probably would have been brainwashed into a life of ignorant prejudice."

Anneliese sat quiet, reading between the lines of her old friend's words. She knew him well enough to know that he was implying more, nudging her. And she had to admit to herself that he was only repeating the thoughts she had been trying to avoid. She couldn't live in the fantasy she'd grown up in and recognize the world for what it is at the same time.

She was too absorbed in her ponderings to notice that Sigurd had turned to watch her. He hadn't heard the conversation, but he was softly staring at her, dull eyes almost pleading her to realize what he was too afraid to say, though that was impossible. If she had caught his gaze, there might have been several things she saw in it. For one, he looked so much more alive compared to the night he had first bumped into her, although that life came with a glint of sadness. Another could be that it was solely her that had awoken him, because just by her existence in his life, she had rewritten his belief of worthlessness. It would be totally unfathomable how important she became, how her every action and reaction to him could change things so quickly.

He wasn't about to say anything like that. There were no words for him to say anything anyway. He could only hope that she could read his thoughts and understand him without his saying anything.

"Hey Sigurd…"

He turned his head and attention back to Lili when she spoke.

"How do you feel? Excited? Scared?" She was referring to how this was to be his first day with the tutor.

"…Uncertain? Strange, nervous…I can't think of a suitable word."

"You'll do fine. I'm worried myself, I'm not getting one thing and it's been bothering me…"

Sigurd smiled momentarily. "I think I'm also embarrassed."

"Why?"

"I don't want you to laugh at how uneducated I am at twenty-three," he chuckled.

She chuckled as well. "I know what you mean. I'm behind for my age too."

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Learning. With Cici and Emma."

Lili grinned. "I'm not sure. Somehow we manage, though Emma, being a small girl, doesn't grasp a lot of things. I suppose that we can pick up on things from each other, even if we don't quite remember what happens when another is in control."

Sigurd didn't reply, nodding only to show he heard her.

After several more minutes, after his gaze began to wander again, Lili spoke again, very quietly. "You are fond of Ms. Anneliese, aren't you?"

He bit his lip. "It's…bittersweet."

* * *

**A/N: You guys see my cool new formatting? C: Middle of the night will give you great ideas.  
**

**Mmm…it seems fun now that this story has stopped circling the plot and actually started to get into it. Ahaha  
**

**~Butter~  
**


	20. Chapter 20

Sigurd stared emptily into the other room. A normal-looking scene. Kjerstin had stopped by, had been helping Mathias with some or another school project, and were now talking in hushed tones about a situation that had come up in her life. Egil had been diligently minding his own business just a few feet from them, but was now trying to hide his interest in the conversation. Sigurd figured this was normal for people their age, feeling out the world, stubbing their toes along the way, turning to each other for support. And yet here he was, their age but in a world apart, sitting on the kitchen counter chin on knees, surreptitiously watching from the one spot he could see into the other room.

He dealt with his own pain internally, yet noted to himself how the others seemed to reach out to each other. They never reached out to him though. Of course. Why should they? He was far from knowing how to react if they ever did anyway. But it didn't mean he couldn't watch and hope for them to get things right where he believed it was impossible for himself.

Right. Hope was definitely a new thing. For what exactly? Who knew? But it gave him a spectator's access to their…normality. Of course they encountered their own problems, had to resolve their own issues. Even if he didn't know or couldn't help, he could hope.

_Do your best, everyone  
I'll always cheer for you  
Even if it's a little dark  
Even if it's a bit narrow_

Eventually, darkness creeps into everywhere. He saw that in them, and he would eventually slip back into the whirlpool of self-pity, despair and loneliness. They couldn't do anything for him, they couldn't even comprehend what he wanted when neither could he himself. He cringed as the thoughts rushed in all at once.

He sunk his face behind his arms. A gaping, empty hole was all he suddenly felt, burrowed through his heart, choking out his breath. Completely empty, like a vacuum of emotion. The word 'vacuum' had gained a new meaning in his mind, and now it felt like the only word capable of expressing this. Even when he didn't clearly feel it, that hole didn't go away. It sat within him, sucking into nothingness his soul, and leaving behind the empty shell of a purposeless life in a broken form.

This particular feeling did more than highlight the vacuum hole blasted through his chest though. There was the churning whirlpool of pain in his stomach, the speechless block in his throat, the burning in his eyes, the total weakness all over that made just lifting one finger seem like a grueling task and doubled, no tripled, the weight of gravity. Funny how feelings are easier described in physical symptoms than actual worded explanations.

He started to tip over sideways, until his shoulder and head collided with the wall beside him, then continued to be weighed down, curling up into an awkward and uncomfortable position. His mind was gone, shot off in a million direction, one moment here, the next there, the next off on a tangent in a different world. _No no no no no no no! Not this, anything but this, help!_ One clear thought that repeated itself every few seconds, only to be drowned again in a sea of…everything.

He couldn't even muster the energy to draw his hands to his temples in that useless pose when the thoughts become _too much_ and one thinks one's brain will literally burst and the damage must be contained. Only the squeezed-shut eyes and steady twitching of his mouth betrayed the mental chaos. It was like tens, hundreds of simultaneous trains of thought in an on-going and unceasing collision. On line of alarm started to rise above the disaster. _Go away, go away, go away, go away, go away, no, no, no, no, stop, no, no, go away, no, I beg you, stop, stop, stop, don't!_

Who was it screaming out to? The other thoughts? The clear, conscious Sigurd that had been buried somewhere beneath this? Some external power over all?

_At times, I lose my senses  
I go berserk, but even so  
Send away this whole feeling  
I plead you_

A thump, with a stifled cry and another, echoed thump as he toppled and bounced on the floor. It was enough to suddenly call his cousins' and brother's attentions. Their reactions would have been comical if they weren't so grave, in sync as they startledly looked in the direction of the noise, then at each other as if any of them had the answers to the motionless young man suddenly on the floor. Within a moment, they got up and hurried to him. It surely looked bad, but within a few seconds, Mathias noticed and pointed out that the fiercely clenched fists and twitching cringed expression didn't match one who was unconscious at the very least.

"Sjur, hey, are you okay?" Kjerstin lightly patted his cheek, speaking softly.

Their voices had been drowned out in the mess of his mind, but the touch got through to him. His eyes shot open, bloodshot and glancing rapidly everywhere. Kjerstin repeated her question, the only thing stopping Egil and Mathias from asking also was the fear of overwhelming him.

He opened his mouth, but didn't have the words to fill it with. After a short while, he murmured, "Jeg klarer ikke dette."

"Hvad?" Mathias questioned.

He took a moment to find his voice again, and then only answered with one word. "Stress."

He could feel their confusion, fixing to pounce on him in a matter of seconds. He didn't know what words to use to describe everything that had gone through his mind in the minutes before. He felt a mixture of anger and failure in himself for letting the madness return. His mind was still racing, though not as violently as before, and he could at least follow it. But the inevitable questions…the questions…how does one answer what one doesn't know oneself?

"Sjur, what's wrong?"

He wasn't sure who said that. He could only try to follow some clear pattern to figure something out. Within a minute, he stood up with a stagger, grabbed his cellphone off of the counter, pulled up a number and began a call, tossing the device to Egil before anyone could answer and stalked out.

The young woman was startled by the call, Sigurd had never called before — he always texted if he wanted conversation — and needless to say, was a little worried by it.

"Hello?"

"Um, Anneliese? It's Mathias, Sigurd's cousin." By the time she answered, Egil had passed the phone to him, his voice only worried her more as she hadn't expected it.

"Is everything alright?" She tried to sound casual, keep her tone down.

"I…don't know. Sjur isn't talking, he fell I think, and he gave your number instead of talking." His bewildered voice did nothing to calm her growing worry.

"Does he-"

"I think he wants you to come over."

"Okay. What happened?"

"I don't know. He kersplatted on the floor and he's acting weird…weirder. He's now just lying on the couch, staring into space. Egil's with him, but he isn't reacting."

She didn't even know what she could do. If they didn't know what was happening, she had far less of an idea. But yet… "I'm coming."

When she got there, Sigurd was still lying on the sole couch, kitten lying in his lap, his hand on his head, eyes half-lidded and glazed. 'He fell' was all she had to go on. His brother still sat in front of the couch, occasionally looking up at him, but not saying anything.

"Hey…" she spoke quietly, kneeling by his head.

He only moved his eyes to look at her, a corner of his mouth twitching upward momentarily.

"Are you alright?"

"My head…"

"What happened?" She instinctually picked up a hand to touch his head after he mentioned it, but withdrew it again, only for it to be caught by the long fingers of his loose hand.

He shook his head to answer her question.

"Does it hurt your head to talk?"

He shook it again. "There isn't a way to say it."

She nodded slowly as if to say she understood, even though she didn't. Keeping quiet seemed to be the best and what he would prefer.

_A miracle born from our joined hands  
The magic of our obvious friendship  
The strength of being alone yet not alone  
Is a treasure nurtured from back then_

It took her a few moments to accept his holding her hand, absentmindedly running his fingertips over her knuckles as he solemnly stared at the ceiling. She silently watched the subtle movements of his face, not noticing when Egil got up and left them alone. She couldn't begin to imagine what on earth he could possibly be thinking or what had led to this situation in the first place.

Sigurd himself was avoiding having to think about the incident. He had a basic outline of his thoughts, which led him to where he was now: fear of going back to it. For now he could deal with what came before it.

His eyes drifted back to Anneliese momentarily, before heaving a dramatic sigh and folding his lips. If only she hadn't shown up. In his life, that is. He would have been content to fly in circles. She was driving him mad again, in ways one wouldn't assume based on that phrase. He wanted to be something worth her attention and time, contradicting his belief that he was simply nothing. No matter how much she obviously cared for whatever reason, he didn't want to believe it and the contradictions in his thinking were straining him.

For now, all he needed was the evidence that she had come to him when he fell…

_The album I engraved in my heart won't ever fade  
It's embarrassing and I can't say it in words,  
But I'm always thinking of you  
Thanks_

* * *

**A/N: haha…this chapter used to be such a huge gaping hole in my outline and I didn't intend for it to be so dramatic, but…it worked better that way. This story is about to get good right before it ends.**

**Thanks again to Coffee (smoking-tulips) for fixing my derp!Swedish!Norwegian uwu**

**Jeg klarer ikke dette = I can't do this (Norwegian)**

**Hvad = What (Danish)**

** watch?v=08eVQ-sAeTw (YellowsicKING)**

** watch?v=5u2vppGZHE4 (Thanks [You])**

**Oh dear, I believe I lost the ability to use words toward the end (or I just didn't edit it, yup, that's it, I didn't edit it)**

**~Butter~**


	21. Chapter 21

"So are you and Anneliese a thing now or…?"

Sigurd rolled his eyes as he looked up at Mathias after those words came out of his mouth. Mathias had sat down beside him with a bowl of oatmeal right after waking up, and quietly watched his younger cousin stir a spoon around in a bowl of cereal and milk rather than eat it before he opened with that question.

"I guess that's a no…" He still didn't get an answer. "C'mon, I wanna know how things stand."

"There's nothing to say," Sigurd flatly said as he returned to playing with the spoon.

"How come? I know you like her."

"So?"

"So…ask her out for coffee or something."

"What's the point?"

"Aw, come on, don't be like this all the time, will ya?"

"I can't," he spoke with an air of finality.

"Why? Has she got a boyfriend?"

"I don't know."

"Then why?"

"I don't know!" Sigurd turned his eyes back on Mathias, glaring. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know."

"Wha-"

"I. Don't. Know."

"What don't you know?"

"I don't know."

"Sigge…"

"I _don't_ know. Okay? I think I'm not good enough, then she obviously shows she cares about my well-being. I think I'll ruin her life, then I overhear her conversations with her friend. I don't even know what I want. She's done immeasurable things for my life, but she's inadvertently pulling my mind to pieces just by existing. I don't know. Is that too simple of an answer for you?" He huffed as he finished, whimsically throwing the spoon in his hand at Mathias.

"You could try." Mathias gave an apologetic smile, patting SIgurd's back after he had slumped slightly. "Just try, okay? She's too nice and diplomatic to hurt you. At the very least, it'd be better than wallowing in uncertainty."

For a few moments, Sigurd stared unbelievingly at his cousin, then with a click of his tongue, turned away. "Thanks."

· · · — — — · · ·

"_Do you have class today?_"

"_8pm, why?_"

"_Mats and Egil are gone again_"

"_Bored?_"

"_Not really. Have you ever been to a fish market?_"

"_I can't say that I have._"

"_Thought so. Would you like to?_"

"_You're going, right? Do you not want to go alone?_"

"_I go alone all the time_"

"_You're saying that you want to go with me then?_"

"_More or less...I guess_"

"_And you're assuming that class is the only other thing I might have lined up for the day?_"

"_Hey, I just asked if you wanted to go_"

"_When do you want to go? It doesn't matter when to me._"

"_Noon?_"

· · · — — — · · ·

The two met at their predesignated place, SIgurd dragging an ice chest-on-wheels behind him.

"How are you?" Anneliese was the first to greet.

Sigurd didn't react in his usual way to the question he normally hated, giving a dull "Fine" as his response.

She nodded with a smile, reading that he didn't want to discuss how he felt. She followed at his side as they walked in silence to this market, until he out-of-the-blue started to speak.

"Remember when you once asked me if I had a dream?"

"Yes. You said it was impossible."

"I've changed my mind. My dream now is to become content with myself, and to try to make everyone around me have a better life. I'm not sure how to go about either of those."

"It's a start though. I'm glad to hear that, Sigurd, I really am."

"Thank you. What about your dream?"

"I'm too old now for child's play." He didn't notice her stiffen her body or swallow the lump in her throat as she looked away. "Life doesn't work that way, it's a survival task."

"Wrong," he quickly and sharply corrected. "If that's it, then you have lied to me all this time."

"What?"

"I was surviving just fine until you showed up…" His voice seemed hurt, and she couldn't figure out why. After a brief pause to fold his lips gravely, he added, "If there's one thing that's changed, it's that you've hammered into me that I can't just 'survive'. You only get out of life what you put into it. Happiness can't just arrive at your doorstep, you have to pay for it."

"…What do you mean?"

He shrugged casually. "I don't know. I'm just saying things."

Her brow furrowed, confused at his change of tone. He had been speaking so seriously, only to write it off as 'just saying things'. Well, in reality, that was just a small part of her confusion. It seemed every time she had contact with him, he was more and more strange and unpredictable. "Is it okay to ask you now…? What happened on Wednesday?"

"My mind…kinda slipped."

"What do you mean?"

He looked ahead and around them, and following his glances, she realized that they were surrounded loosely on all sides. "I'll tell you later," he said quickly, obviously uncomfortable with the strangers.

So this must be his fish market. She saw vendors up ahead. Honestly, before today she hadn't given much thought to his occupation. She remembered him calling himself a fisherman on several occasions, but she never considered exactly what that entailed, how he worked at all. She never even thought much about when he did go fishing, though thinking of it now, that filled in a lot of blank spots in her mental calculations of what exactly a withdrawn, eccentric young man did on a daily basis. And why it wasn't unusual to run into him along the waterfront. It seemed that even when he wasn't fishing, he was irresistibly drawn to the sea.

She tried to stick by his side and not get lost as he seemed very single-minded about what he was here to do suddenly. He was heading toward a vendor with a small poster board in front, decorated rather childishly with markers, a hand-written "Kirkland" in the middle. There was a lone woman sitting there, strange as Anneliese had noted that most of the vendors were twos and threes, if not a whole family.

The woman looked up over her glasses when they got near, Sigurd slowing to a stop.

"How are you, Sigurd?" she calmly asked, standing to do her customary business with him.

"Don't ask," Sigurd was quick to snap. Ah, there was that usual reaction to the question. Anneliese decided to simply observe how he went about a professional relationship.

"I'm sorry that I care." This woman seemed to be hardened to his snark, returning with the same tone of voice. She looked up again at Anneliese, she had noticed her before, but seemed like she was only now putting things together in her mind and noticing something different. "Is she your girlfriend?" She spoke quieter, but Anneliese still clearly heard.

"No." There was a pause, then Sigurd's face curled in resignation. He turned back to Anneliese, slightly apologetic. "This is Rose Kirkland. Rose, Anneliese Edelstein." He left off his introduction at that.

Rose simply nodded in Anneliese's direction, not saying anything. Anneliese simply smiled, letting the two continue a conversation if they wanted. After a moment, Rose did resume talking to Sigurd. "I'm sorry about being pushy before. It's okay now, I don't need to know anyway."

Sigurd didn't respond initially, not even changing expressions, as if he didn't hear at all. Rose was about to repeat her words before he shook his head. "You didn't want to either."

The blonde sighed. "It's my bloody fault for trying to do something again. I never learned my lesson." It almost seemed like she was talking more to herself. Sigurd didn't answer. Both remained silent until she was filling out his check. Stopping her pen, she tapped it thoughtfully, then looked up at him. "I went to nursing school. I quit. I couldn't handle it anymore. I think I just want a redemption." Her voice almost was robotic, like a confession forced out.

Sigurd's brow furrowed, and stayed that way until she handed him the check. "I don't know what you mean," he mumbled, turning his back right after, denying her the chance to explain. He motioned with his head for Anneliese to come after him, wanting to be done with this ritual.

She followed after him, keeping with his pace. After they exited the market area, she noticed that he wasn't heading home. He seemed troubled again. She decided to ask for a clarification. "What was that there?"

"Rose Kirkland," he flatly said. "Lovely girl, I guess. Nosy, but nice anyway, doesn't know what she thinks she does."

"And that means…?"

"She irritates me, I don't really want to talk to her or answer her questions, but I like her anyway."

"Interesting…" was the only answer Anneliese could come up with at first. "I take it she's the 'woman asking questions I don't want to answer' you spoke of before?"

"Yes."

Anneliese nodded. Sigurd had slowed his walking considerably. He had the same expression he had worn before when he usually walked in circles. It seemed his mind was on a different subject than the one she brought up.

"What happened on Wednesday, right? Medications take ages to start working. You should know that if you've ever taken a pain killer, it takes about half an hour to work, on average. Mental drugs are the same, but a lot slower. I am taking them now, by the way."

Anneliese focused her attention on his every word. It seemed he was going to start a monologue that was quite important not only to the recent occurrence, but something else as well.

"So, simply put, I got upset over something, had been feeling horrible for a little bit before, and started to feel something pretty scary. If you can imagine what would happen if several monorails intersected and crashed into each other, yet didn't stop going and kept crashing, that's what my mind was like. I'm used to hypomania by now, that's actually kinda fun, but that was getting frighteningly close to the feeling of losing all control entirely. You can't control your mind, you can't keep track of it, you feel depressed. I happened to be sitting on the counter at the time, I lost track of the real world, and I fell. Simple."

"I'm sorry…"

He opened his mouth up to say something, then exhaled in a sigh, and turned his eyes on her, full of desolation. "Anne-" he choked on her name. He stopped again to gather his courage. "I don't want to hurt you by saying this, but it's eating at me. Ever since I met you, no, since you accepted me knowing the truth, you've made me miserable. I was comfortable before. I've wanted nothing, but you pushed me on to be something and overcome. I've toyed with the idea that I might love you. Hope isn't what it comes off as, it's a sword. A sword that stabs into a comfortable despair and drags you into a hell of thinking of all of the happy endings you could have, and doubles on you again when your hopes fail. But still…you've finally made me see a glimpse of happiness. You're pushing my mind over the edge, but I never want to see a day without you in it." He gave a weak smile and turned away, his shoulders slumped, heavy breaths evident in them.

Anneliese had become almost frozen on the spot. She had no words to answer him with, but felt that she had to. "I-" Rigidly, she took a step closer to him. "I didn't realize." With a comforting touch, she placed her hand on his arm.

Turning on his heel, he scooped her up in a hug. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but he didn't regret it or stop himself. He just wanted to let it sink into his spirit, to remind him from here on that he was going to be okay.

* * *

**A/N: and here's my anticlimactic author's note XD Aaaaaaa…I'm unwilling to accept that there's only four more chapters to write. Yeah. And the prequel. And maybe (most likely) a sequel. But still…four…only four.**

**Oh, and I'd like to say that I want each and every reader to imagine Sigurd and Anneliese's relationship however they please. I've discussed my own feelings about it to a few people, and I'm sure they aren't conventionally what they come across as. Please, think of it however you like. It's fun that way. (You can tell me in the reviews how you imagine it too btw ouo)**

**~Butter~**


	22. Chapter 22

"I barely know anything about you, you know?" was something Sigurd randomly blurted out. Until that moment, Anneliese had simply been accompanying him, he seemed to lost in his own thoughts to hold up a conversation.

"I'd say the same, I hardly know anything about you."

"No, you know a lot about me. You practically know my whole history."

"History, schmistory. I'm not discounting it, but I look at you and can't help but wonder what you think or how you feel, because you're so…individual. I know somewhere there is an average person with fondnesses and peeves and such."

"But you've always been so considerate of me, that I don't really know who you are. I know a little bit, but I don't know where you've come from or what past influences you."

"You know more than you think, Sigurd." After a beat, in which their eyes met, his confused and hers smiling, she clarified. "I know you've listened to my conversations…with Basch, with his parents, for an example. I was sheltered, as you know, I don't have much of a 'past' per se, to speak of."

Finally, he nodded, leaning back into the bench they sat on. After several moments, he took on a storyteller's tone of voice and he seemingly changed the subject. "When we were kids, we were always taught that people looked out for each other, more or less. We were raised that communities are linked together and one whole. Everyone has a part in that whole, and every part is important. If one part is hurt, the rest help them out. It's a great idea and it should work, in theory, but I've never seen it. No, reality, by my experience, is that when something happens that people don't know or don't want to deal with, they ignore it, like it'll go away. It's easier to be in denial than to fix the problem. Then the whole doesn't function. The entire community is broken and dysfunctional."

"You're…talking about what you grew up in?"

"Mm… That's what made me jaded. It doesn't work. I'm selfish, you're selfish, everyone's selfish, no matter how we're linked together. Everyone's first concern is himself. And so human tendency seems to be that when the neighbor suffers, we want to think it doesn't affect us and it isn't our problem. And then we drive ourselves apart and wonder why everyone has unsolvable issues."

"I can relate. We were taught to build our own kingdom and prove ourselves, but then turned around and taught to love our neighbor as ourselves. I think society, no matter where you go, is self-destructive, no matter what."

"That was my theory. I was perfectly fine with refusing to trust anyone, believing that every person will only do what is self-satisfactory…"

With his accusatory tone of voice, it was Anneliese's turn to fall dumb in confusion.

"What do you get out of me? I'm a burden, one of those unfixable pieces that was ignored until completely broken and a hindrance to anyone unnecessarily connected to me. You've broken my theory, because obviously altruism does exist in some, if small, way."

It took Anneliese a moment to recover before she could respond. "Well, that's good because I was all set up to drift into a comfortable life already set out, and you've woken me up to the reality of the world, and I'm quite sure that easy, pre-planned life is completely going to be withheld from me now. Which isn't so bad, I'd rather have an average life of ups and downs than have to look back and berate myself for only satisfying my own self while ignoring those that are in need."

Sigurd crossed his arms, and Anneliese thought she might have seen a slight nod, but she couldn't be sure and he showed no other signs of paying attention. _Selfish,_ she thought, _is right, he's very selfish. Not consciously, but nonetheless._

"It's hard, you know," Sigurd started back, "to be afraid of everyone. Everyone, even the people I like. I can't shake the suspicion that something's going on behind my back, that everyone's secretly against me. I don't know, is paranoia a defense mechanism?" He stopped momentarily to glance over her before their eyes locked. His voice softened, almost seeming to choke out a confession. "I'm afraid of you. It hurts to be so fond of someone and not able to shake the thoughts that I'll only be hurt. Sometimes I can't believe myself, why I've opened up to you so much, but…I don't regret it."

She reached to squeeze his hand reassuringly, his fingers catching in hers and wouldn't let go. "It's okay, Sigurd. It really is. You can't help it, and I won't think any less of you."

He let a small smile creep onto his face, his eyes truly softening to her for the first time she noticed, and only warmed more as she continued to speak.

"You're not a freak. You're not a bad person. You're sorry, and you should forgive yourself completely. You can't take it back, but you shouldn't let it run your life. You should live your life as best as you can."

"Thank you."

There was an appropriate, still silence that fell and lasted until he suddenly realized that he was clinging onto her hands, then awkwardly withdrew from her.

"Sigurd, the vendor you work with…" Anneliese decided to bring u a subject she hadn't been able to understand.

"Rose Kirkland, yeah?"

"What was that between you?"

"She knows there's something wrong with me and she wants to know what it is."

"And you won't tell her because…paranoia?"

He shrugged. "I guess."

"If she's as worried as she tries to hide, I don't think there's any harm in just telling her."

He turned to stare at her unconvinced, unable to come up with an argument.

"For me? Can you trust me that it'll be okay?"

"For _you_?"

"Well, for you, and also for her peace of mind, but yes, for me."

He kept his suspicious gaze for a few moments, then repeated "For you?" as he pulled his phone from his pocket and began a call, all nearly without breaking his eye contact with her.

Anneliese recognized the panic suddenly hit his face as the person on the other end of the call picked up, evidenced by the muffled voice. He stood up as he gave his first words.

"Where are you?" The other party sounded a bit rattled when they responded, but she couldn't make out the words. "Uh-huh, I'll see you." After replacing the phone in his pocket, he motioned with his head for her to come with him. "Okay," he quickly said, "before my better judgment kicks in."

"And by 'better judgment', you mean irrational fear."

"There's two kinds in this world…"

It wasn't a long walk to his house, where he stopped to pick up a file. After that, he headed himself in a direction she recognized as the fish market, obviously fidgeting the whole way in nervousness. After what seemed like a never ending walk, she could see the humble little booth belonging to one Ms. Kirkland, who stood up upon spotting the blond young man still a bit off.

"Is everything alright? Do you need something?" she was quick to speak as he got close. Then, as if she only then noticed Anneliese along side him, she added, "Didn't you say she wasn't your girlfriend? But she's with you again…?"

"She's my…uh, mentor," Sigurd came up with a title on the spot. "Rose, okay…I'm not okay. You don't need to worry about me." He pulled a few pages from the file and held them out limply for her. "I'm bipolar. I have a mental illness."

Rose sort of froze, scanning over the paper, as if struggling to process the information. "…You're not going to die?"

"I don't plan on it."

She blinked rapidly, glancing between the paper and his stone-set expression, then stopped to read over the page. "…Bipolar I disorder…?"

"It means I've had both full-on mania and depression."

"…Oh… Oh yes, it specifies her." Suddenly feeling like she'd overstepped, she shoved the report back to him before reading through it. "I understand, I'm sorry." She turned away and inhaled sharply, then swallowed hard. After several moments, which had left both Sigurd and Anneliese perplexed as to why she reacted so emotionally, she sat down, eyes cast to the ground. She attempted to put on a smile when she began to explain. "I'm just afraid of death, I think. You sort of remind me of my brother, Sigurd. I had three brothers, all of them are dead."

Anneliese was quick to follow with an "I'm sorry…"

"I wanted to be a nurse, ever since I was a little girl. My youngest brother, he had asthma, it was a freak occurrence, but they couldn't save him. That was six years ago. My twin brother suddenly developed a brain tumor, and he fought so hard, but it killed him. He was twenty-one, far too young. And then, three years ago, my last brother…it started out as a simple flu. But it got complicated. He got pneumonia after that, there was a mistake at the hospital, and it killed him. I was…I was so angry. I couldn't do it anymore, I quit med school. Now look at me, I was top of my classes, headed to my career, and now I'm here selling fish. I feel like I have a death sentence too. Everyone I look at, I see a person that might die at any moment. I don't want to see anyone else die…"

"Hey, it's okay…" That Sigurd even attempted to respond surprised Anneliese. "I'm an orphan, I know how you feel. I've ruined my life too, there's not much else for me than catching fish. We'll be together in this."

Rose smiled briefly, amused by his obviously awkward attempt to make her feel better. She stood back up again, wordlessly stepping toward him and wrapping her arms around his torso. "Thank you." After she released him and sat back down, she ventured a question. "So…so I understand, what's it like…being bipolar?"

Sigurd seemed to snap out of a freeze and stumbled over a way to answer. "Uh…I'm fine right now, maybe I can explain it later?" He knew it was a pathetic way to excuse himself to run away, but he wasn't prepared to go there. "I've got to go, bye?"

Anneliese had found the whole encounter quite interesting to observe and kept her eyes on him as she followed him away, ready to discuss it. "'Mentor', when did I become that?"

It took him a second to recall what she was talking about. "Since now, I pulled it out of thin air."

She nodded, going quiet again. Well into the walk back, she reached out to take his arm and stop him. He seemed confused as he turned to face her. She reached up to kiss his cheek. "I'm proud of you, Sigurd Thorvaldson."

* * *

**A/N: Nony, you'd better love me for the pathetic attempt at a little NorxNyo!Eng ship tease that I threw in for you. Not that I wasn't doing it already, but I just decided to turn the dial up a little just for you.**

**To all my other lovely, fantastic, beautiful readers, I'm sorry it took me so long to write this. My brain was pretty much fixated on another fandom and I only wrote this chapter as a distraction. I hope you have enjoyed!  
**


	23. Chapter 23

"It's so nice of you to come out to say hello, dear. Will you be staying all week?"

Anneliese smiled briefly as the older woman placed a mug of coffee into her hands. "I'm unsure as yet."

"Oh, that's just fine, whatever you want to do. I understand at your age, with friends wanting to have little trips and adventures during a break. I just appreciate that you took the time to pop by." The woman sat down beside Anneliese on the suede loveseat. "Vati is having lunch with a business partner, he should be home around 2, if you were wondering."

This was useful information to the young lady, who cast a glance clock-ward. 1:26, she had about half an hour to kill, if her mother was correct in her estimation.

"Oh dear, quiet and introspective as always." Her mother leaned forward and quirked her head. "Though I'd say you're a bit uneasy, maybe thinking a bit too hard. …How's school coming?"

"It's fine. There's been a few distractions this semester, but overall, same old same old."

"That's good. You've always been such a natural and so absorbent of your studies, I'd be shocked if it got to be too much."

_Yuck_, was the thought that passed through her mind. She tried to push away the antagonism rising within her and focus on the simply splendid coffee, but it even started to taste rancid. Strange, Mutti always made perfect coffee. Maybe it was just the gut feeling she had at the moment that was turning her stomach. Softly, she placed the mug down on the coffee table, recoiling from it.

"Is your cup bad, sweetheart? I thought I remembered your preferences…"

Anneliese smiled politely. "No, I'm sure it's fine. I just don't feel it at the moment."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Can I get you anything else?"

"No, thank you." This was definitely going to be awkward until she could get what she came home for, or rather, to say.

· · · — — — · · ·

_"Hey, Sigurd…? You don't know much about your father, your biological father, do you?"_

_"Yeah, I never knew him."_

_"You said…" Anneliese had been looking for and didn't notice any kind of expressional reaction, not even when his glance momentarily examined her. She was still watching for it though, unbelieving that a father's total absence from his life had had no effect on him. "Did you ever…hear about him though?"_

_His hand absently flew to his mouth, then after a moment, trailed to clasp onto his ever-present necklaces. She mentally noted this, having noticed the same reaction before. "Mamma always said I'm a lot like him. Not sure how valid that opinion is ten years later."_

_"Like him how?"_

_"I guess, in personality, kind of, some of my mannerisms and such."_

_"Did she, or anyone who knew him, I guess, ever tell you what he was like? Why did he leave?" She bit her lip before another question spilled out. "I'm sorry if you don't want to talk about it. I guess it's just…unfathomable to me and I'd like to know. But it's personal, I can get that."_

_His gaze shifted back to her. "I'll answer anything you want to ask." Their eyes met and exchanged a sort of agreement. "My aunts said they liked him. Mamma still loved him, I'm sure of it, to the day she died. I don't get why, he left, disappeared without warning, for no apparent reason."_

_She felt compelled to share her first thought. "Well, he was still a teenager, right? With a baby maybe he couldn't handle it."_

_He shrugged in a manner of blowing off her hypothesis. "The pregnancy wasn't a big deal to him, they said, he handled it with extreme coolness. But they also said he was whimsical and unpredictable. And he just…vanished. He didn't tell anyone, not even his family, just upped and left in the middle of the night. Took very little of his possessions. They tried to find him, but it was useless and they gave up."_

_"If it were possible…would you want to meet him?"_

_"When I was younger, yes. I wanted to have a real father back then. I still kind of hope he's alive somewhere, that he's okay, but I don't want him. It's hard at times not to blame him, but I don't think it was his fault. Maybe it's just wishful, but I'd like to imagine that someone else made him disappear. I don't want him to be the bad guy."_

_She nodded silently, her eyes fixing again on his grasp on the necklaces, reminding her of a child with a security blanket. After a moment, she spoke up softly. "Not to change the subject, but…can I look at those?"_

_His initial reaction was to stare at her like she somehow knew something she couldn't have, then opened his hand to let the two pendants rest in his palm for her to view. They looked old, scratched and nicked in several places, but well taken care of. The two pendants were quite different, a silver hammer and a shark's tooth, but the cords they hung from were identical and equally as old, making her think that they were somehow linked. "It's funny that you ask," he eventually spoke. "Mamma gave me the tooth one when I was about eight. It was my father's. A few days before she died, she gave me the other as well. I kept them, obviously, but I only started wearing them a few years ago."_

· · · — — — · · ·

"Are you okay, Annie?"

"Hm?" Her mother's voice jarred her back.

"You looked a little…away with the fairies."

Anneliese smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, I was just…thinking about something." She paused as if to decide whether to continue. "Mutti, thank you, you and Vati, for everything you've done for me."

"You're welcome, dear. We try, but we aren't perfect."

The younger woman couldn't help the under-her-breath "I know."

"What brought upon this sudden gratitude?"

"Well… I was just recalling ," she spoke cautiously, choosing her words with care, "a conversation I had recently…with an orphan."

Her mother nodded slowly and understandingly. "I see. I'm sorry for…that…friend, I suppose, of yours. And I wish them the best."

She silently mused that she was glad that she wasn't Sigurd at that moment, because if she was, she would have given a massive eye roll. Mutti had an issue with eye rolling.

Before the conversation could go anywhere and get out of hand, there was a rattle at the front door and it squeaked open. "Guten Tag."

Mutti was quick to reply to the customary greeting from the living room. "Dear, you'll never guess who stopped by to visit!"

Anneliese's father entered into the room as she stood to greet him. "Oh! Hello, child! What a pleasant surprise."

"Hello Vati." She tried to respond with the same level of cheeriness, but the knot in her stomach prevented her. After exchanging the warm hug and kiss, her eyes followed him as he sat down in his chair, only returning to her seat afterward.

"Are you staying all week? I would love to chat with you and get caught up."

"Yes," she somewhat stiffly replied, "I'd like to chat as well."

· · · — — — · · ·

_"I don't know what to say, Basch. It scares me." Anneliese's grip on her cellphone was tight as she approached this discussion again, looking for a motivation from the other side of the call._

_"Be honest. Honesty is your best friend, even if people don't like the truth."_

_"I feel like I'm in an internal war. I want to be open and honest, to settle this, but it's terrifying. And that part of me that's scared makes excuses, like 'It's none of their business anyway,' or 'Why is it such a big deal?' and such."_

_"It's okay. Whenever you feel those doubts, just ask yourself: 'Would I rather be up-front or would I rather be confronted with it through gossip, correct or incorrect?' You can do it. There's no black hole going to destroy you. At the very least, I'll honor your effort at doing the right thing if it all goes wrong. You can trust me."_

· · · — — — · · ·

"So how's school?"

"Fine, great. I've made a few new friends this semester."

"That's always good."

She felt like a bug under a microscope, or like a suspect under interrogation. This was it. She was going to take the plunge. "I met a guy nine weeks ago."

"You did?!" her mother was quick to pipe in. "Honey, that's wonderful! What's he like?"

She smiled nervously. "Well, we're not really dating, but I suppose we are a sort of couple."

"And I was beginning to wonder if you ever had plans for your marriage future…" Mutti might as well have been clapping and bouncing in her seat.

Anneliese glanced at her, her expression a mix of an apology and a 'please stop doing that'. "His name is Sigurd, he's from Norway, and he's…" she purposefully chose an implicating yet innocent label, "manic-depressive." She focused her eyes on her father sitting across from her, who's eyebrows suddenly became quite unbalanced as he drummed his fingers together in front of his chin. She didn't even have to look at her mother to feel the atmosphere darken. She kept her tone of voice and expression appropriately serious. "Sigurd is a very kind and gentle man. His life has been a traumatic life. I'm proud to support him, because before we met, he had no one but his small family and no future to look forward to." She stopped there, using her silence to bait a response.

She knew her mother was nonverbally deferring the entire conversation to her father. She could tell he was formulating a reply and so awaited it. "He's dangerous, isn't he? They don't call them 'manics' for nothing."

"Technically, they call them 'bipolar'. They swing between enormous bursts of mental energy and mortal depression."

"They only use that term to water it down. This boy is a certified maniac."

"He was abused."

"They just make excuses. He should be locked up. He's a madman."

"Some of the wisest things I've heard have come from his mouth, and one of those is that all madmen aren't the same. Don't judge a book by its cover."

"Anneliese Frauke Edelstein, he'll only hurt you."

"He can't do that again. He's hurt himself too much already to ever cause anyone any more pain. I said he was abused. He wasn't beat or hurt physically. It was by those same words. He was told as a small child that he was scum, that he shouldn't be alive. He was threatened with death. He was accused of unfounded, biased things. And that never really stopped. His abuser died, but the world continued. How long can this world go on with people tearing each other apart from the inside out? I won't stand for it anymore."

"This family, the Edelstein name, will not stand to support the acceptance of the ills and rats of society, Anneliese." The man had grasped his hands onto the arms of his chair, ready to spring to his feet at any moment.

"He's a _human being_, first and foremost. He has a heart that can be broken like you and me, he has feelings. You haven't even met him and you think you know him better than I, just because of a _disability_." She began to stand up, then added, "I don't see you looking down on the paraplegic child, I don't see you wanting to quarantine all of the people battling cancer. His illness is every bit as much an illness, and a battle he constantly fights. All I want is to be free to stand by his side and try to help. I'm not a child anymore, and as a grown adult, I want to have the liberty to choose to make my own friends and love who I want to love."

She knew that she wasn't going to get an answer and also that her decision wasn't going to be approved of. But she wasn't going to cowardly change her mind anymore. Knowing the discussion would go nowhere from here, she stood up and began to march indignantly to leave. Just as she was about to reach the door, she turned on her heels to face them again, to add one last thing before she slammed the door shut on that part of her life.

"Basch Zwingli sends his love."


End file.
